


Now We're Even

by Twist_Shimmy



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Rampant racism, Slow Burn, probably the happiest thing I've ever written actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-02-10 15:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 103,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twist_Shimmy/pseuds/Twist_Shimmy
Summary: Who knew doing someone a favor could ruin lives? When Juska is captured by his fellow Thalmor, Fandelmar lets her escape. A few weeks later, she saves his life when he ends up wounded in the road. The fallout from these decisions leaves them both wondering if doing the right thing is actually the best idea.





	1. Fandelmar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some thought, I've decided to add a trigger warning to this chapter for assault. It's not graphic, and the attack isn't successful, but I still don't want it sneaking up on anyone.

“Please tell me that miserable shadow up there is some sort of building.” Nethraneron missed a step and nearly lost a boot to a puddle with a loud sucking noise.

Fandelmar looked out from under where they had stopped beneath a large tree, trying to find any sort of shelter nearby. Unfortunately, they were in a largely unpopulated region of the Reach, which had been a blessing until approximately fifteen minutes ago. The rain had been an inconvenience, but the lightning was a danger because of their armor. Worse than that, though, was Osric’s complaining. It was going to drive all three of them mad if another option wasn’t located soon.

A flash of lightning illuminated a long, narrow house on a nearby hill. That must be what his leader had seen. It wasn’t impressive, but it looked as if it had a sturdy roof and most of its walls intact. If they skirted through the trees, they should be able to get there safely.

“It is a building. We should make for it,” Fandelmar told Nethraneron.

“That hardly looks worth the walk,” Osric said.

Nethraneron peered out from beneath his hooded robe, and considered their options for a moment. “I say we do it. It’s the safest-looking place to weather this storm in sight.”

“The leader has spoken,” Fandelmar replied.

“The _leader_ doesn’t have to worry about being electrocuted on the walk over, either,” muttered Osric.

But when Nethraneron began weaving his way through the trees toward the hill, Osric followed. Fandelmar brought up the rear and thanked the Eight that he was shorter than his two companions. Hopefully, that would make him the least likely to be struck by lightning.

The hill was steeper than it had appeared from a distance, but they managed to trudge their way up, sometimes clinging to roots and branches to ease their passing. The three of them were out of breath, and their armor was coated in mud, by the time they stood in front of what appeared to be a hunting lodge.

Osric sniffed the air. “Someone is here. I smell fire.”

Nethraneron held up a hand for silence, and softly walked to the open door, peering in carefully. His posture relaxed, and he turned back toward them. “It’s just a hunter. She’s asleep. We can take the other side of the house until the rain passes.”

The three of them clanked in, but even the sound of them removing and seeing to their armor didn’t rouse the girl by the fire. Fandelmar sat with his back to the far wall and inspected her as he dried and cleaned his armor with practiced motions. Nord, with dark blonde hair almost like Osric’s. Her fur armor was laid out to dry by the fire, and she was wearing only a tunic. She _certainly_ hadn’t been expecting company, and would likely be unhappy to see them when she finally woke.

He side-eyed his companions. Their leader was dabbing at the mud on his hem. Osric was also tending to his armor, with his eyes locked on the Nordess. His look was familiar enough that Fandelmar knew trouble was coming.

“We should search her,” Osric said to Nethraneron.

The other mer shook his head. “Why? She’s given us no reason.”

“Because if we take her back for questioning, we can get out of this Oblivion-cursed wilderness for a while.”

Fandelmar cut in. “Why waste our time with a single Nord hunter when we know there is an entire city nearby openly worshipping Talos? Ondolemar called for us for a reason.”

Nethraneron pointed at him in approval. “Exactly. Leave her be, Osric.”

He snorted and fell silent, but his eyes didn’t leave the girl even after his armor was cleaned and dried and he’d begun helping himself to travel rations. After chewing down a strip of their dried meat, he made a disgusted noise and rose, walking softly toward the hunter’s side of the room.

“Oz!” Fandelmar hissed.

Osric leaned over the hunter and plucked half a pheasant from the wooden plate resting between her and the fire before returning to his companions. He slid down the wall next to Fandelmar and dug in to his prize.

“Gods, these people need to learn about seasonings,” he muttered after a few bites.

Fandelmar looked toward their leader, but he just shook his head.

“We should rest. Osric gets first watch. Then me, then Fandelmar.”

He wasn’t going to complain about an unbroken night’s sleep. Once he’d finished his dinner, such as it was, he unrolled his bedding and collapsed into it. Nethraneron followed suit, while Osric remained with his back against the wall, eyes on the girl.

The sound of the rain on the roof was soothing, and though Fandelmar wasn’t exactly feeling cozy, he _was_ soon drifting.

  
An angry female voice cut through his sleep, sending him jolting upward and reflexively seeking his sword.

“Get _off_ m— mmph!”

At the sound, Fandelmar turned his head and saw Osric had the hunter pinned to her bedding, one of her wrists in one hand, his other hand covering her mouth. She was kicking and struggling, but he had the bulk of his weight pressed against her hips. The tunic she was wearing had rutched up during their struggle, and Fandelmar did not like the amount of thigh he was seeing as a result.

Nethraneron was on his feet beside Fandelmar in an instant. “Osric, what in Auri-El’s name—”

Osric twisted the girl’s wrist so that the dim light of the fire shone across it. Fandelmar frowned as he saw the Talos tattoo emblazoned into her skin. “Saw it when she rolled over,” he said, a hint of triumph in his voice.

Fandelmar looked to their leader, who was rubbing at his forehead.

“Gods. Of course.” He sighed, then gestured at Fandelmar. “Bind her.”

“She’s just one Nordess.”

“Who might know others. They’ll want to question her.”

Fandelmar removed the rope from his pack and moved to obey. “Osric, get off her.”

He grinned up at Fandelmar, but eventually rose, dragging the girl with him.

She struggled as he worked on binding her hands, shouting obscenities at all three of them, but it didn’t matter. They were used to these sorts of reactions by now. When he sank to his knees to see to her feet, she tried to kick him in the face, but he caught her by the ankle and proceeded to finish securing her.

Osric finally let her go, but Fandelmar still didn’t like the look on his face. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Oz?” he said. “I can take over for a bit. I’m wide awake after this debacle.”

He looked reluctant to leave his prize, but when their leader agreed, he shuffled off to bed down. Fandelmar helped move their captive to a sitting position, then, seeing as there was no longer a reason to keep away, settled in near the fire for warmth.

His brethren were soon asleep. Fandelmar spent his time staring at the dying fire and listening to the rain, well aware of the fact that the girl was sitting rigid, shaking slightly, with her eyes locked on his face. She didn’t move, speak, or drop her gaze a single time for the entirety of his watch.

Honestly, he’d expected begging, or bargaining. She was either proud and knew nothing… or she knew a great deal, and was well aware of what was coming. Time would tell... and if he had any say in the matter, it wouldn’t be Osric who would make her talk.

**

 

When the rain broke in the morning, Nethraneron bade them begin the trek back to the Embassy with their new prisoner. Osric was only too happy to oblige—he’d been complaining about being sent to Markarth since they’d received the orders. Fandelmar, on the other hand, was more interested in being off the road. Markarth was closer than the Embassy, and he was tired of walking.

He untied the hunter’s legs and got her up, but she effectively dug in her heels and refused to move. Fandelmar frowned down at her, and she glared up at him with cold blue eyes.

“I want my things. And my _clothes_ ,” she hissed, eyes cutting briefly to Osric. Fandelmar didn’t follow her gaze.

Nethraneron glanced back at the two of them. “Get her moving, Fandelmar.”

He picked up her pack. She would need to be untied to get it on her properly, or to get her dressed, and he was pretty sure that would cause more problems than it would solve. After a moment’s consideration, he slipped her fur armor inside of it, then slung her pack across his back with his.

Osric snorted, but said nothing.

“They might want to search her things,” Fandelmar explained.

When neither of his companions replied, he retrieved the hunter’s boots and bade her step into them. When she continued glaring at him, he removed his cloak and slung it around her shoulders, fastening it at her collarbone. It slid closed and enveloped her in its golden fabric, offering her far more cover than her tunic had. It would have to do.

“Come on,” he ordered, shoving at her shoulder.

She glared at him. She glared, but she began walking, and soon the three of them were on the road.

With a prisoner in tow, their leader repeatedly quashed any idle conversation, so they traveled in silence. Fandelmar brought up the rear, with the hunter in front of him. In front of her went Osric, while Nethraneron took the lead. The road was muddy, and it was miserable going. Fandelmar caught himself wishing more than once that they hadn’t seen the little hunting lodge on the hill.

That night, they made camp in a clearing a bit off the road. Fandelmar tried offering the hunter a bit of their travel rations, but she just inclined her head and stared at him.

“Suit yourself,” he muttered, and knelt to remove her boots and re-tie her legs. She stared down at him the entire time he worked at the ropes.

Once she was suitably hobbled, Fandelmar turned his attention to getting out of his kit and making up his bedding for the evening, sinking down against it with a groan. Walking in full armor with two packs had not been kind to his back. He removed his armor piece by piece, which became a bit unsettling when he realized that their prisoner was _still_ staring at him.

Osric pulled first watch, and his lack of complaint settled in the pit of Fandelmar’s stomach, bringing with it a strong sense of unease. He made sure to turn to face the hunter as he lay down on his side. Their eyes met, and she stared at him unblinkingly for several seconds before he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

He was actually on the verge of drifting off when he heard Osric rise from his place by the fire and move toward them. Fandelmar opened his eyes and found she was _still_ looking at him, even as his companion drew near.

Osric knelt beside her and pressed the blade of a knife to her throat, simultaneously hissing something into her ear. She did nothing in response except keep her eyes on Fandelmar. Osric took that as acquiescence to whatever he had said, and moved his free hand to the bottom hem of her tunic, lifting it up toward her neck.

The hunter swallowed, but her eyes never wavered from Fandelmar’s. He held her gaze because he didn’t want to see the skin Osric was busily exposing.

He could close his eyes and roll over. Nethraneron would have, and certainly had before. Osric’s tendencies were well-known to the Thalmor, and he was generally sent out on missions where there would be supervision, and someone _else_ in charge of the prisoners.

Fandelmar never dropped his eyes from the Nord’s, and her expression never changed as Osric’s hand began to wander over her exposed skin. Fandelmar kept her gaze as he spoke without rising, voice pitched low to avoid waking their leader: “You’d sink that low? The Bosmeri call them ‘naked apes’ for a reason.” He said it in common.

Osric started, jerking away and causing the hunter’s tunic to fall back into place. He turned his head and glared at Fandelmar before replying in Aldmeris. “Mind your own business.”

Fandelmar switched to their native tongue, as well. “She looks young enough to be a _child_ of our race, Oz. It’s disgusting. Are you really so desperate?”

His cheeks flushed, and he rose and stalked for the fire with tense, jerky movements. Fandelmar watched him settle back down beside the fire, then cut his eyes to the hunter. Yes, she was still staring at him.

Fandelmar remained wakeful until Osric’s watch was over, and then rose for his. He sat with his sword in his lap and his back to a tree across from their prisoner. She fell asleep soon after he took over, and with little else to do and no one watching, he took the opportunity to study her.

Her hair was held back from her face with braids, several of which had bone and silver beads threaded into them. She had prominent cheekbones for a human, though the rest of her face was disconcertingly smooth. Her lips were far fuller than any mer's could ever be. And gods, she was filthy. She must have been out from home for weeks, if she even had one.

She didn’t look like someone who would know anything important about the Talos cult in the Reach, tattoo or no.

Their prisoner slept for his entire watch, but jerked awake when he roused Nethraneron. When Fandelmar settled back onto his bedroll, she resumed staring at him. He felt her eyes still on him even as sleep found him again.

Osric spent the next day of travel in a foul mood, and did his best to share it. He complained about everything from the weather to the road, and kept eyeing Fandelmar with a look of pure hatred when he thought their leader was focused elsewhere. Fandelmar, for his part, was too tired from lack of sleep to care. Eventually, Osric gave up and walked in sullen silence.

That night, Fandelmar pulled third watch, and Osric first. Fandelmar took his time checking his armor and getting settled in, and was well aware that the hunter had resumed staring at him as he did so. Again, he lay facing her. Again, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

Again, Osric rose midway through his watch and approached their prisoner. Fandelmar opened his eyes to the same scene of his fellow soldier holding a knife to her neck while her eyes remained focused on him. Fandelmar didn’t drop his gaze as Osric’s hand began roaming again. He kept his eyes on hers even as Osric leaned her onto her back and began untying her legs.

_Come on, girl_ , he thought at her.

As soon as the ropes came off her legs, the Nord went feral, clawing at Osric’s face with her still-bound fingers as she landed two kicks: one between his legs, and the other into his stomach. Osric doubled over, quietly mewling, and Fandelmar rose, moving quickly between them.

“This is why you don’t untie them, you idiot,” Fandelmar hissed.

The hunter made no move to fight, or even flee, but he remained between them until he was sure of Osric’s next move. To his relief, his fellow soldier rose and silently limped back toward the fire.

“Get some sleep,” Fandelmar murmured. “I’ll take over.”

“Kill her, for all I care,” Osric retorted, and curled up on his bedroll.

When Fandelmar turned his eyes back to their captive, he was thoroughly unsurprised to see that she had resumed staring at him. He held her gaze as he moved close to retie her legs, and found he was able to form the necessary knots from muscle memory. Memory which he did not follow to the letter as he bound her again. Then, he moved to her arms and retied the rope at her wrists. There, too, he worked the knots slightly differently.

Once he had finished, he settled with his back to a tree, keeping her in view. They stared at one another until Fandelmar was sure that his companions were asleep. Then, he let his eyes close, and willed sleep to take him, too.

He woke at dawn to a very angry Nethraneron, and one less prisoner. The ropes lay in a tangle beneath the tree they’d put her under, and her pack was gone from beside his. She had moved carefully enough through the forest as she escaped to leave no trace for them to follow.

His leader had questions, but Fandelmar had answers. The lack of sleep which had allowed her escape, he blamed on Osric’s repeated attempts to assault the hunter. When the question arose of how she’d slipped her bonds, he again pointed blame at Osric, whom he had clearly seen untying her.

Osric was known for making trouble. Fandelmar was known for following the rules. And Nethraneron, who was known for his apathy, soon washed his hands of the mess completely.

“We’ll finish traveling to the Embassy and send word to Ondolemar that we were delayed. Once we’ve reprovisioned, we will return to Markarth, and this time there will be _no_ distractions.”

Osric scowled, but Fandelmar merely nodded and began strapping back into his armor, mentally preparing for the walk.


	2. Juska

Juska flopped onto her back and stared up at the tent over her head. Two weeks later, and she was still having trouble sleeping at night. When she did find sleep, nightmares of elves in golden armor found her more often than not.

Why did the High Elves wear gold? They were golden enough on their own. The armor was overkill.

She’d been held captive for three days and hadn’t been able to learn any of their names. Too many syllables. In her mind, she’d just referred to them as The Tall One, The Sullen One, and The Nice One.

Thank Talos for The Nice One, even if he probably wouldn’t want her to. He’d had kind eyes. Juska was pretty sure he’d saved her from a lot of pain, in his way. Even still, knowing there were Thalmor in the Reach had kept her off the roads when she wasn’t with her family. Off the roads and out of the lodges, hence the tent over her head, which she’d had to buy instead of the new boots she so desperately needed.

And she hadn't told her family about what had happened. If she had, they never would have let her hunt again. She felt bad, but they couldn't afford to buy her boots any other way. That was why, instead of helping with her younger siblings, she was back out hunting so she could bring back meat to sell in town. _That_ money would go to new boots. The soles on her current ones had nearly worn out, and she was beginning to slip on rocks. Travel was nearly impossible when the rain came.

Birds had begun to sing in the woods around her, so Juska sighed and gave up on the idea of sleep entirely. She helped herself to cold rabbit, which she’d cooked the night before, and then began breaking down her little campsite. The tent was rolled and fastened to her pack with her bedroll, and dirt was kicked over the remains of the fire. No big game seemed to be in this area. Something must have come through and scared it off. She needed to move on and keep searching.

The tent made Juska’s pack heavier, which reduced how far she could travel in a day, but it was worth it to not be caught off-guard again. She swallowed against the memory of waking up with The Sullen One pinning her, and set off in the direction of the river. Deer and other animals were sure to be heading there for a morning drink. She’d make her kill, and then head back home.

Her plan bore fruit; after finding a game trail to stake out, she used two arrows to bring down a young buck just as the sun was finishing its return to the sky. Soon she had him dressed, and her pack was several times heavier than it had been, but that was okay, because new boots were one step closer to being a reality.

Ha. One _step_. Juska chuckled at herself as she headed for the closest road to begin the trek home. Hopefully she could grab a couple rabbits or pheasants on the way back for her family.

She’d been on the road for about three hours when she heard the fighting. The country was in the middle of a war, so it wasn’t unexpected. It could also be bandits, or Forsworn; the Reach wasn’t the best-patrolled hold in Skyrim. Juska slipped off the road and began walking parallel to it so that she could see the fighters, yet remain unseen.

Her heart caught in her throat when she saw the glint of golden armor up ahead. More Thalmor on the roads? That was _bad_.

Thankfully, she realized as she drew closer, that they had run into a party of Stormcloaks. From what she could tell, the Thalmor weren’t going to be a problem for much longer. The mage was down, and the two warriors were hemmed in by Stormcloak soldiers. She watched as one of the Nords slammed the pommel of his blade into the temple of the elf in front of him. The elf’s helmet went flying, and he staggered, which gave the soldier the chance to send his blade between the slats of his opponent’s cuirass.

Juska squinted, then stared. She _knew_ that elf. She’d memorized every aspect of his pointy fucking face while she was held captive. The soldier kicked him loose, and he fell to his knees, leaving his neck exposed for a death blow.

She drew her bow without thinking. As she nocked the arrow, she wondered _if_ she was thinking. But this elf had possibly saved her life, and so she let the arrow fly.

The Stormcloak, instead of removing the elf’s head from his shoulders, went down with an arrow to the back of his skull. The Thalmor she’d just saved faceplanted into the dirt as the remaining Stormcloaks reflexively looked around for the source of the arrow. The last Thalmor standing— The Sullen One, she realized— took down one of the Nords before striking a defensive pose against the remaining Stormcloak.

They stared at one another for a moment, then down at their comrades. The Sullen One began to back up, and after a moment the Stormcloak followed suit. They began to move away from one another.

Fuck that. Juska let another arrow fly, and The Sullen One collapsed into a heap. At this, the final Stormcloak took off at a run down the road, away from the small pile of corpses bleeding into the dirt.

She waited until he was out of sight, then approached the bodies on the road with her bow at the ready. Her first stop was at her Thalmor attacker’s body to confirm he was dead.

Yes. Maybe her nightmares would be less intense now. She yanked her arrow out of his corpse with more force than necessary.

The Stormcloaks were also dead, which she was much more ambivalent about. After confirming this to herself, she knelt beside the elf she’d killed a Nord to save.

Unconscious, but breathing. She tried to haul him onto his back, but got nowhere with his armor on. Fine, the buckles, then. After some fumbling, she removed the armor protecting his upper half, revealing a sliced shirt and a great deal of blood.

The Stormcloak’s sword had missed his intestines, but if she didn’t do something, he was going to bleed out on the road.

Juska rummaged in her pack for her bandages, ignoring the voice screaming in the back of her head that she was helping the enemy. He’d let her get loose; the least she could do was try to help him in return.

He groaned as she wrapped the bandages tightly around his middle, but despite the lifting and rolling this required, didn’t wake. Not a good sign. She rocked back on her heels and considered her options. There was no way she was going to be able to carry him, in armor or out. But If he stayed here, he was going to die of exposure.

“Fuck,” she hissed, and began removing the rest of his armor. Once he was down to his clothing, she unrolled her tent, her brand new tent, which was hardly even dirty, and lay it on the ground. It took a few grunts and a great deal of shoving, but soon the elf was on his back atop it.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ ” she said again, and began to drag him in the direction of the river.

The going was slow, and she had a lot of time to ponder as she wove them through the trees. Thoughts like ‘what the fuck was she doing,’ ‘what the fuck was her plan,’ and ‘why didn’t she inherit Pa’s muscles and shoulders like the rest of the family, that would have been _really helpful here_ ’ ran through her head on loop until she made it to water. It wasn’t the river, but it was a stream that fed into it, so not only would they have a source of water, but she wouldn’t end up lost.

Juska stopped and made sure the Thalmor was still breathing. He was, which sparked all sorts of conflicting emotions. Those she ignored as she made camp. The fire was easy; getting him off of the tent, onto her bedroll, and then inside the tent was exhausting. By the time she was done, the light was fading, and everything hurt.

“Gods. I could be at home right now,” she muttered at the fire, and unpacked some deer meat to roast for dinner. After a bit of thought, she put an apple on, too. It would be nice to have a treat after the mess today had turned out to be.

From the tent, the Altmer said something in another language, but didn’t wake.

“Nobody asked you,” she said, and rose to refill her waterskin. That done, she flopped over beside the fire, quickly falling into a fitful sleep.

When Juska woke the next morning, the first thing she noticed was how much her muscles ached. The second thing she noticed was that there was soft groaning coming from the tent. Her mistake had survived the night.

She wiped at her eyes and walked to the tent on her hands and knees. The elf was covered in sweat and had one hand over his wound. His breaths hissed in and out between clenched teeth.

“Yeah,” she told him. “I bet it hurts like a bitch.”

To her surprise, his eyes opened. Bright green elf eyes held hers for long enough to make her flash back to her time in captivity before closing heavily again.

“I’m going to need to sew it shut, you know. So get ready for the pain to get worse. I was really hoping you’d still be unconscious.”

His eyes opened again, and this time she could see the pain in them. They were glassy, and red. She sighed and sat down beside him before reaching over for her pack and pulling it close. She removed a horn cup and her water skin.

“Here,” she said as she filled the cup. “You need to drink. Keep your stomach relaxed.”

The elf nodded, and she held him slightly off the ground with an arm behind his shoulders as she carefully tilted the cup to his lips. He managed three swallows before having to pause to groan again.

“You need more than that,” Juska insisted.

She sat with him for several minutes, feeding him sips in between his groans, until the cup was empty. After setting it aside, she lowered him back onto the bedding.

“Thank you,” he hissed, and then appeared to fall back asleep, or maybe faint.

“Well, no time like the present.” Juska began to rummage in her pack for the rest of her healing supplies. She pulled out a pouch of herbs her ma had taught her to use to keep wounds from festering, and a smaller pouch that contained a needle and a coil of horse hair. The needle she passed through the hottest part of the fire before threading it with the horse hair and setting it at the ready.

Getting the wound in sight without jostling him would have been incredibly difficult, so after a moment’s thought she cut away the sad remains of his shirt and the bloody bandages. She hissed when she saw the wound again.

Juska braced herself, and then set to work with the needle, drawing it through his skin in a way that would encourage the edges of the wound to stay together and heal faster. It took longer once she got to the part of it that curved around his side, but went more smoothly overall than she was expecting. She had never had to do this to someone herself; she’d learned from watching her ma.

After she put the needle away, she took a bloodless scrap of his shirt and wet it with water, then began gingerly cleaning the blood off the edges of the wound. She wrung the rag out several times and rinsed it with water from the waterskin, but without a bowl or bucket to dunk it in, it took a long time to get the wound clean. She didn’t even bother with the blood coating the rest of his stomach. Finally, she crushed up several of the herbs from the other pouch and mixed them with a little water to make a paste. That, she smeared liberally along the wound.

There. Juska rocked back on her heels and surveyed her handiwork. She was pretty sure she hadn’t made anything worse, which was going to have to be good enough. Ideally, she would rebandage him, but she’d only had the one set, and also didn’t want to roll him around again and risk tearing a stitch.

“You better not die after all this,” she muttered as she rose to fill her waterskin again. After that, she found green wood to make a smoking rack. The chances were good that she wasn’t going anywhere for a while, and the deer meat wouldn’t keep.

That done, she resigned herself to waiting until he regained consciousness again.

****

 

The next two days were a slow crawl of carefully offering him water and listening to him groan in his sleep. When his eyes were open, Juska didn’t see any recognition in them, but there was no sign of fever, either. She was pretty sure a fever would have killed him.

On the evening of the third day, he woke up. She noticed this because the groaning stopped. When she went to investigate, she found him warily inspecting his surroundings and feeling at the wound in his side.

Juska smacked his hand away. “Stop that!”

The elf stared at her, and this time she got the sense that he was seeing her. The slightest tensing of his jaw could have been recognition… or pain.

“Are you thirsty?”

“Yes,” he managed, and tried to sit up, but he hadn’t eaten in days, so his body was having none of it. Thankfully, by this point holding him up to get water in him was nearly second-nature, though having him _aware_ for the event made it awkward.

“I found a willow tree nearby. I don’t have anything to make tea, but you can chew on the bark to help the pain.”

He grimaced around a sip of water.

“Is that a no?” Stupid of her to assume a High Elf would stoop low enough to eat bark, right?

“No.”

Huh. Showed what she knew. Juska helped rest him back against the bedroll, then collected her herb pouch and the water skin from beside her pack. She broke off a portion of bark, then soaked it with a splash of water. When she went to hold it to his mouth, his hand intercepted it and shakily finished its journey on his own. She didn’t bother stifling her smile at this, or at the face he made when the flavor registered. But, he did keep chewing instead of spitting it out.

While he chewed, she talked. She’d been talking at him for days, and the fact that he might actually respond was novel. “You think you can eat? I’ve been wanting to make a broth, but again, nothing to boil water in. I have smoked deer, though. You’ll heal faster if you get some meat in you.”

He was still watching her warily as he chewed, but he nodded all the same. Juska turned and began carving some smoked deer into manageable bites.

“Chew on the bark for a bit longer,” she said, settling in beside him with the plate. “Dinner’s your reward for stomaching it.”

Was that a hint of a smile? It was hard to tell; his lips were so thin.

Eventually, she held out her palm. “Spit it out.”

He grimaced again, but obeyed, and she promptly tossed the mangled bark out of the tent and wiped her hand on her furs. “Yeah. Not my favorite thing, either.”

Juska offered the plate out, having realized that he was too stubborn to allow himself to be fed. His hand was shaking badly, but he managed to get a bite of deer into his mouth. Chewing took him a while, but he finished everything she’d cut for him.

“Feel better?” she asked as she set the plate aside.

He nodded, but his eyes were lidding heavily.

“Go back to sleep. You need to stay busy healing.”

His sleep was less fitful this time. Hopefully a full stomach and having an edge taken off the pain would give him a restful night. Juska settled down in her spot by the fire, wishing yet again that there wasn’t an injured elf on her bedding, and let herself drift off, as well.

Juska woke in the middle of the night to water dripping onto her face, and realized with a sinking feeling that it had started to rain. The fire was hissing and popping angrily, and all her things were getting wet. She scrambled around the camp, cramming everything into her pack where it would stay dry, and then stared toward the tent.

It was made for one person. Letting the elf have her bedding, she could do. Letting him have the tent, while she slept in the dirt, she could do. But she was not about to sleep in the rain. His big gold ass could deal with her cramming in the tent for a night, injury or no. Besides, it was fucking freezing out here because of the rain.

She’d centered him in the tent like an idiot when she had first made up the bedding, a fact which she was now regretting as she slipped into the small space between his shoulder and the tent wall, lying on her side to prevent them from touching. She’d chosen his uninjured side just in case she rolled over on him in the night.

Thankfully, he didn’t stir as she settled in. The food and medicine seemed to have done their jobs admirably. If there was any justice in the world, he would stay asleep until the rain stopped.

Juska felt awkward lying beside him, but the rain was soothing, and she’d nearly managed to fall asleep before the sound of chattering roused her again. She blinked over at the elf and found him shivering violently. Her irritation at this fact was brief; he was down quite a bit of blood, she had cut most of his clothes off of him, and he wasn’t as good with cold as she was just by nature.

“Gods.” He already had her blanket. There was only one thing she could do to help, and it wasn’t going to be great, because they both needed baths. Even still, she rolled over and pressed against his side, draping one arm over his chest and one leg over his, and willed her warmth to spread to him.

It took her a while to fall asleep like that, but by the time she had, his shivering had stopped.

 

Juska woke to the sound of rain, and had a full second of enjoying being warm and dry until she remembered _why_ she was warm and dry. She jolted into full wakefulness, eyes open wide, and saw that the elf was awake. Awake, and watching her. She pulled away and rose to a sitting position to his side.

“You were shivering last night.”

He studied her, so she defiantly returned the favor. He looked more alert today than he had since she saved him on the road. Clearly the food had done some good.

“...Where am I?” His voice was soft. It had been almost disconcertingly so when compared to his fellow Thalmor, she remembered.

Juska began rummaging in her pack, getting out the cup, the waterskin, and the willow bark. “You’re still in the Reach.” She filled the cup. “Here. Can you serve yourself water today?”

He reached for it with a steady hand and rose slightly onto the elbow of his other arm before downing the entire thing thirstily. When she wetted the bark and passed it over next, he took it without complaint.

Watching him grimace and chew was awkward, so she busied herself getting some more smoked deer served for them both.

“Where are my companions?”

Juska popped a bit of deer into her mouth. “Dead. The Stormcloaks got them,” she added as an afterthought, and didn’t meet his gaze.

Silence as he considered this, then: “Am I your prisoner?”

Juska looked up and eyed him levelly, letting the silence stretch out just a bit too long. “No. I just have bad timing.”

“Not for me,” he replied before removing the chewed bark from his mouth and setting it aside near the tent edge. She took that as her cue to pass the plate over. He rested it on his chest and ate it from his back, eyes closed, chewing slowly. She ate with far less reserve.

Nothing sounded for a while but rain on leaves and the tent overhead, but Juska didn’t mind. It was a nice sound, even if it did mean she was stuck in this tent for a while longer. Maybe he would fall asleep again soon.

The elf did break the silence again eventually, though. “May I have your name?”

“...Juska. You?”

“Fandelmar.” He took the last bite from his plate and passed it back to her.

“Well, Fondlemog, it looks like we’re stuck together because of rain again. Hopefully it will end better for me this time, yeah?"

He sighed through his nose and closed his eyes again. “Agreed.”

That made her feel bad, so she barreled on. “I need to check your side.” She pulled the blanket away from his middle and leaned over to inspect the wound. The elf, for his part, lay still, eyes closed.

It hadn’t festered, which was good. She rummaged in her bag for another scavenged bit of his shirt and wetted it before drawing it through the remains of the salve she’d put on his skin. He hissed in pain at this, stomach muscles going tense.

“Sorry. I need to see how it’s healing.”

This time, he opened his eyes and rose onto his elbows again to tiredly inspect the damage for himself. When he saw the dried blood covering his stomach, and dried herbs mixed in with the blood, he scowled. “Gods. I need a bath.”

“Yeah, you really do,” she agreed as she continued working.

Once it was clean enough to see, Juska tossed the shirt scrap out of the tent and into the rain.

“Good news,” she said conversationally, leaning back on her hands. “I think you’ll live.”

He looked up at her soberly. “Thank you, Juska.”

She immediately looked out the tent entrance at the rain. “Consider us even. Who knew how well keeping your friend off me would work out for you, right?”

His voice rose slightly, which made her meet his eyes again. “He was _not_ my friend.”

“Sorry. I just— I’ve been asking myself what the fuck I’m doing since I found you.”

This earned her a light smile. “I have that effect on people.”

Juska wasn’t expecting humor, which made his comment funnier than it was. Her laugh sounded raucous in the quiet of the rain, which cut it short. She bit at her lip and pulled the blanket back over his chest. It would need to be replaced after this. She was _never_ going to get those new boots.

The elf closed his eyes again and relaxed into her bedding. “I feel the need for more sleep.”

“Knock yourself out.”

That smile again, and then unconsciousness, quick like only the sick and injured could manage. Juska forced her shoulders to un-tense, and then began quietly fletching more arrows for her quiver.

 

The next two days went much the same way, though with less rain. She remained prickly, but he seemed determined to be pleasant. His strength returned enough to allow him to sit for his meals, but she had to help him actually sit up because of the stitches.

Day seven arrived, and restlessness came with it. Juska knew she needed to go hunt them something else, and maybe find something that wasn’t meat to supplement their diet. And the elf? The elf wanted a _bath_.

“I need to be clean. This is insufferable. Where is the stream?” When he tried to rise and ended up wobbling dangerously, she practically lunged for him.

“Whoa! Okay, okay. Let me get you there. It’s not far.” She slung one of his arms over her shoulders. “You sure you can walk?”

“For this? Yes.”

She guided him through the thin line of trees between their campsite and the water. “Sit on this rock and breathe for a minute.” He sat obediently, and she studied the water, working out logistics.

“Alright. Pants off.”

He stared at her, eyes wide, and she sighed and reached for his waistband. His hand caught her arm before she got far, and she was surprised at the strength of his grip. He was recovering, all right.

“A little privacy, please.”

Juska snorted. “And have you slip on a rock and tear your stitches? You can barely stand.” She pulled her arm free and reached for his trousers again. When he caught her arm _again,_  she sighed. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen, anyway. Who do you think was wiping your ass while you were passed out?”

This had clearly not occurred to him, based on how red his face became. She reached for his trousers _yet_ _again_ , and this time he didn’t stop her.

Juska loosened the waistband and tugged. “Ass up.” When he obeyed, she tugged them down the rest of the way and knelt to pull them off his ankles.

“...That explains where my underclothes went, at least.”

She rose and took his arm, guiding him into a standing position, and once again used herself as a brace for him to walk. “Look on the bright side. Another three days, and you’ll be walking on your own, and won’t need me for this.”

They took a few short steps to a rock which was partly protruding from the water, and she helped him lower himself onto it. Once he was settled, she realized she’d forgotten something.

“Oh. Just a sec.” She ducked back to her pack and then walked the short distance back to him, handing over a cup, a scrap of his old shirt, and her bar of soap. He looked relieved when the soap came into view.

“Thank the Eight.”

Juska snorted. “There’s nine of them, you know.”

“I will be honest with you,” he hissed, using the cup to pour water down his front. “I don’t care how many there are.”

Huh. “Then you picked the wrong job.” She began removing her furs from the waist up, revealing the tunic she was pretty sure he would recognize, and knelt to begin washing dirt and old blood off her arms and face.

“I needed the money. And when I joined the Thalmor, our role was to protect our homeland. I never expected to be sent out _here_.”

“How old are you, then?”

He glanced over at her. “Old enough to know better than to own my age to a human.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he returned his attention to his stomach and the sickly pink lather the soap had formed as the old blood was washed away.

“I’m twenty,” she told him, watching carefully for his reaction.

His face remained impassive. “I knew you were young. That is a large part of why I let you escape. Your parents worship Talos, correct?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then you can hardly be blamed for following in their footsteps, Juska.” He rinsed his front with a cup of water.

“You’re shivering again. Finish up.” She rose and began to put her armor back on.

“Nearly done,” he said through chattering teeth.

Once he’d rinsed, she moved to help him out of the water and back into his trousers.

“Feel better?”

“Beneath the humiliation, I believe I do, yes.” He slung his arm over her shoulder, and she began walking them back.

“They gave me a choice about who to worship, you know,” she said as they neared the tent. “I’m not some kid blindly following her parents.”

“You are _twenty._ ” He lowered himself back onto the bedroll and reached for the blanket to cover himself back up.

“Like I said. Not some kid.”

“And as I said, I honestly don’t care who you worship, especially not after you saved my life.”

Juska sat at the entrance of the tent and peered in at him. “I told you, I found you. I just have bad timing.”

“I remember the arrow.” His voice was softer than normal, and his eyelids heavy.

“You don’t remember shit. Get some sleep. I’m going to go try to find us more food.”

She waited until she was sure he was asleep before palming her bow and slipping off into the woods.

 


	3. Fandelmar

Waking and finding himself at the mercy of his former captive had been a harrowing experience for Fandelmar initially. Even through his pain, he understood that if she wanted revenge, she had found the ideal time to take it. When the rain came and he woke with her against him in the tent, however, he began to hope that she was there to help rather than hurt.

When his head was clearer, he remembered an arrow taking out the Stormcloak that had sliced into his side. No matter how much she protested that she had simply found him, the picture of the Nord slumping over in front of him, pierced through the skull, remained in his mind.

“I just have bad timing,” she insisted repeatedly, and _he_ insisted that he knew she was lying.

With the exception of that humiliating bath, he found that he was generally enjoying her bedside manner. She complained a great deal, but she was actually taking quite good care of him.

Two nights after the bath incident, she returned from a hunt with a rabbit in tow. He managed, with her help, to exit the tent and sit by the fire like a person for their meal.

“Thank you, Juska,” he said as he took his plate from her.

“I mean, I’ve gotta eat, you know?” She sat down beside him with a thump. “You’re just taking care of the leftovers before a bear finds the camp.”

When he chuckled, she eyed him, but chose to eat instead of reply. Since he was ravenous, he did not mind. Only once his portion of the rabbit was nearly bones did he speak again.

“I would like to ask about the staring, if you don’t mind.” He turned his head to look at her in time to see her go tense.

“What staring?”

“When... my companions took you captive.”

Her pale blue eyes met his. “Hey, I remember you tying the rope, elf.”

He refused to look away as he spoke. “I do, as well. I also remember tying it rather poorly for you.”

Juska sighed through her nose and looked down at her plate. “You seemed like the nicest of the three of you. I don’t know. I was trying to make you pay attention so that I was a person instead of just another captive.”

Fandelmar nodded to himself. “Well, it worked. Good thinking on your part.”

She stared into the fire. “Want dessert?”

When he nodded, she opened a pouch she’d had slung at her waist and poured a small pile of berries into his hand. He sampled one, and found the tart sweetness that flooded his mouth to be pleasant enough. The fact that he did not know the name of what he was eating, however, made him feel strangely melancholy.

“...What are these called?”

Juska snorted. “Snowberries. I feel like you should know that.”

Fandelmar shrugged. “We Thalmor haven’t exactly been trying to assimilate.”

She watched him eat a few more berries before replying. “No. You should, though.”

He gave her a small smile. “I’ve certainly been learning a great deal about Nordic hunting methods over the last few days.”

“Great. I’m teaching the enemy our ways.” But she was smiling, so he continued on.

“Do you live out here?”

Juska shook her head, set her plate aside, and flopped backward into the dirt. He felt his nose begin to wrinkle and had to force it to stop.

“No,” she said, turning her head toward him. “I live with my family.”

Fandelmar considered this. “Do they know where you are?”

She shook her head. “And no offense, but I won’t be telling them what kept me out here.”

“Were I in your position, I wouldn’t, either.”

“Huh.” Juska crossed her arms behind her head and looked at the canopy above them. “Hey, what was that shit about ‘naked apes’ you were saying to the sullen one when he was messing with me?”

Fandelmar felt his face flush at the memory. “Ah. Some Bosmeri refer to the human races as ‘naked apes.’ They’re comparing them to the ape-folk who live in the jungle outside their towns. I... said it because I was attempting to shame him into leaving you alone.”

She snorted. “You elves think so highly of us, huh?”

He rose, very aware of the stitches in his side as he went, and began making the few short steps to the tent. “It stems from ignorance.” He eased himself down slowly, then began rearranging the bedding, pulling it close to the right side of the tent wall.

“You’re not like I thought a Thalmor would be.”

Fandelmar sank down onto the bedroll and lay backward with a groan, thinking briefly of his dead compatriots. “As you are well aware, some of us are terrible. But many of us are simply people.”

Juska didn’t respond to this, and as he felt tired down to his bones, he didn’t attempt to resume the conversation. He found himself drifting for a while, and didn’t fight it. Sleep was a welcome respite from the constant ache in his side.

Some time later, the sound of her settling in to sleep by the fire roused him enough to remember why he had moved his bedding, and he forced his voice to work. “I don’t like that I’ve taken over your tent. I made room, if you like.”

“It’s meant for one person.”

“And after the debacle at the stream, I find that doesn’t really bother me.”

Juska laughed, but didn’t move, and so he let his eyes fall closed again.

 

When Fandelmar woke the next morning, she was in the tent, curled on her side with her back to him. He tried to sit up quietly to get at the water skin, but as he was pouring, he heard her voice, sounding thick with sleep.

“You better not be messing up your stitches.”

“I am being careful, Juska,” he replied. After a sip of water, he added, “Promise.”

She didn’t reply. In fact, she seemed to have fallen back asleep. He considered covering her with the blanket, but he had no shirt or shoes, and Skyrim was unforgivingly cold after living so long in the Summerset Isles.

Juska woke fully a few minutes later, just in time to witness scattered drops of rain hit the fire and make it hiss. They both frowned at the sight.

“Talos’ _tits_ , not again!”

Fandelmar began carefully edging toward the rear of the tent. “There will be room for us both if we’re sitting.”

She rubbed at her face and sat up, taking over the space he just vacated. “I hate being stuck.”

“I should be well enough to walk soon. You won’t be stuck much longer.”

Juska eyed him. “Walk where?”

“Back to the Thalmor Embassy. I need to tell them what happened to the others.” He grimaced down at his bare chest. “And resupply.”

“You have no shirt, and no shoes, and you want to make that trip?”

“I never said it would be a pleasant walk.”

“Or weapons!” She did not seem to appreciate the shrug Fandelmar gave her in response. “I’m not letting you walk off and die after I worked my ass off to save you once already.”

“Juska, I’ve taken enough of your time.”

She shook her head. “I’m seeing this through. Maybe next time I’ll think twice about nocking an arrow.”

Fandelmar stifled a smile. “You admit to saving me, now?”

Her eyes went wide, and she began to laugh. “Shit. Guess so.”

At her laugh, he allowed his smile to spread.

“Gods.” She grinned at him. “I’m really glad you’re not an asshole. This would have been miserable if you were.”

Fandelmar watched as her eyes dropped to his bare chest and stomach. He turned slightly so that she could see his wound more clearly. “It’s healing well.”

“Which reminds me. Why haven’t _you_ healed it? I thought High Elves were great mages.”

He held up a hand and summoned a small flame to his palm. “We have a talent for magic, yes, but the only spells I’ve ever been good at were offensive. I could probably burn this forest down faster than I could heal myself.”

Juska raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t burn the forest down. I need it to eat.”

He extinguished the flame in his hand. “As you like.”

They sat and listened to the rain for a while. It was actually quite lovely when one wasn’t forced to be _in_ it.

“So,” she said, eyes still watching the rain falling beyond the tent entrance. “How old are you?”

Fandelmar shook his head. “I’m still not going to tell you.”

“That’s really unsettling.” She was side-eyeing him again.

Fandelmar felt the same way about her youth, but it seemed tactless to tell a human that he couldn’t imagine having such a small life. Half a century was hardly enough time to get everything done. He hadn’t managed to do that, and he’d been alive for over one hundred years. She was nearly halfway through her life already.

“Don’t you get bored?”

“What?”

“I feel like I’d get bored of everything if I were around for so long.” Juska pointed at the rain. “Pretty things like this. If you see thousands of rainstorms, don’t they stop mattering?”

Hm. “They never have for me.”

“What if I guessed how old you were? Would you tell me then?”

“You are welcome to find out.”

“A thousand.”

He grimaced. “I hope I don’t look _that_ old.”

Juska studied his face critically, for long enough that he began to feel awkward. “I can’t tell. The angles throw me.”

“Now that I understand.” He smiled with a hint of teeth. “Humans have smooth faces like river stones. No angles at all.”

“I have angles!” She pointed a dirty finger at each cheekbone. “Right here.”

“Ah. I stand corrected.”

They fell into silence again and sat watching the rain. This had the effect of making Fandelmar very sleepy, and soon he was trying to find the least intrusive way to lie back down. Juska let him flounder for a bit before laughing and moving to one side.

“Get sleep. You need to keep healing.”

He did, so he closed his eyes and let the rain lull him into sleep. He was vaguely aware of Juska sitting near his feet, fletching arrows, before he slipped away again.

 

Fandelmar woke to more rain and a small pile of arrows beside his caretaker’s feet. She was stretched out beside him on her side, with her hands pillowing her head. He blinked at her proximity a few times before easing himself upward, fingers reflexively feeling at his wound.

“Stop that,” she murmured.

He looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed. “How did you know?”

“You poke at it every time you wake up. Let it heal.”

Fandelmar sighed and made room for her to sit as she stretched and yawned.

“Did the rain make you sleepy?”

She rose into a sitting position and began tidying her hair. “No. I ran out of feathers, and watching _you_ sleep is really tiring for some reason.”

“At least the rain stopped while we were resting.”

“True,” she said, but made no move to exit the tent. Fandelmar frowned over at the wet campfire. Hopefully she would re-light it before dark. The nights out here had been brutal to endure. Perhaps _he_ should be the one sleeping beside the fire.

“Hey,” she said, rotating her position until she was sitting face-to-face with him, “I have a question.”

“Ask,” he replied.

“Do _you_ have family you should be getting back to?”

He shook his head. “Only a grandfather back in Summerset whom I should write when I return to the embassy. Nobody here who would notice my absence.”

“Oh.” She frowned.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you asked me.” She fidgeted with her fingers. “It made me curious.”

Fandelmar smiled at her.

She eyed him. “What?”

“Is there anything else you would like to know?”

“Yes, but I don’t know you well enough to ask.” She rose into a crouch and began exiting the tent. “We should have you do a few laps around the camp, you know. My ma says that moving makes healing go faster.”

“It is _very_ muddy currently, Juska.”

She leaned down and peered back into the tent. “Yeah, so?”

“I have no shoes.”

“The mud isn’t going to stain that golden skin of yours permanently, you big priss.”

He looked down at his arm. “Golden skin?”

Juska grinned. “All of you. Hair, skin, armor. And then there’s your eyes, which just make everything else seem even more gold.”

“I am not _gold_.”

“Compared to us pink Nords, you sure are!” Her voice trailed into a sing-song cadence.

The nap appeared to have been more restful to her than it had him, but he left the tent all the same. Healer’s orders, after all, and she knew more about helping him recover than he did. His approach to health had always been of the “don’t get hurt” variety.

Juska slipped underneath his arm as soon as he was standing, and wrapped her other arm around his waist. The fur of her armor felt rough against his bare skin, but the sensation was hardly new. She had been carting him around the campsite for days, but he was getting steadier on his feet each time.

“I can manage today, Juska.”

“Nope. If you tear a stitch, you’ll be down again and we’ll be stuck here. Not risking it.”

She took a step forward, and he moved with her, grimacing against the feel of the muddy ground sucking at his feet. “It’s between my toes. This is terrible.”

“Did you never play with mud as a kid?”

He shook his head and resisted the urge to look down at his feet. If he tripped, she’d be even more convinced he needed her as a crutch. “No. My mother would have slaughtered me.”

“Gods. You must have had a really boring childhood.”

“I’m not sure that is the conclusion we should be drawing here, but fine.” A pause to breathe. He was tiring more quickly than he would like. “I swam. I read books. I played in sand. Sand is clean.”

“Sand is full of fish shit,” Juska muttered, guiding him around a large rock.

“Pause, please. I need to sit.”

She helped him rest on the rock, frowning deeply. “Do you hurt? I have more willow bark left.”

Fandelmar took a slow breath. “No. I’m tired of feeling like a goat.”

Juska shrugged. “The pain will keep you careful, anyway.”

He looked down at his feet and felt the urge for another bath. “Let’s not do too many loops of camp today.”

She shook her head. “No, just the one. You’re weaker than I thought. I’m not feeding you enough.”

Fandelmar took a deep breath and slowly rose to his feet again. He had enough energy to manage one circuit. “I believe that this could be more accurately blamed on Altmeri constitution.”

Juska looped her arms around him again. “Good. I like blaming High Elves for things.”

He chuckled, and then focused the remainder of his energy on walking. They completed the loop of camp without incident, and soon Juska was helping him back down onto the bedroll, though they both took care to keep his feet outside of the tent.

“Gods,” he muttered, staring forlornly down at his filthy feet.

“Hold on,” Juska said, and rummaged in her pack. She produced a piece of what he was nearly certain was his former undershirt and her waterskin before kneeling at his feet. He started as she poured water on them and moved to wipe them clean.

“No!”

Juska froze and became wide, staring blue eyes, which gave him the opportunity to snatch the cloth and skin from her hands. She rolled back onto her haunches and frowned.

“What was _that_?”

Fandelmar forced his voice to soften. “I can—I can do this myself.”

“Talos’ tits, you are stubborn, elf.” She shifted to her feet and moved to rekindle the fire.

He stared down at the cloth and waterskin. “It’s not that. It felt like subservience.”

“Oh.” She rummaged in her tinder box. “Well, it’s not.”

“I know. Forgive me. I’m more tired than I thought.” He leaned forward, ignoring the pain in his side, and began washing the mud off his feet.

“Get some sleep. I’ll get the fire going again and have dinner for us when you wake up.”

“Thank you, Juska.”

It took a few minutes and most of the water skin to get his feet clean enough to suit him. Once they were finally free of mud, he scooted backward onto the bedroll and settled in to sleep, covering himself as much as possible with the blanket. His eyes closed heavily, and he found that the sound of her moving about camp, preparing their meal, was soothing enough to send him rapidly to sleep.


	4. Juska

The elf being able to stand now was really unsettling. Juska wasn’t used to people being taller than her, and she didn’t like how he had to look down to see her. It made her feel small. Nords weren’t supposed to feel small.

It also made his lack of shirt almost distractingly obvious. She spent a lot of time at chest level when he was up and she was helping him walk circles around the camp. He wasn’t burly like a Nord, but he was still muscular like she supposed most soldiers would have to be. He had strong shoulders and a prominent collarbone, and was oddly free of scars.

“How long have you been a soldier?” she asked as they settled down by the fire for dinner. Pheasant, this time, and some carrots she’d found growing wild.

The elf smiled, and his teeth shone white in the firelight. “Are you changing tactics, now?”

Juska dropped her eyes to her plate and picked at her bird. “I was just curious, but if the answer helps me figure out how old you are, I won’t complain.”  

“Why are you so interested in my age?”

She had to chew and swallow before she could reply. “Because it’s infuriating that you won’t tell me!”

His smile widened. “Ask me anything else, Juska.”

“Fine. What do you eat instead of snowberries where you’re from?”

“Grapes, mainly. The Isles are very mild, and we also import from Cyrodiil.”

“See, that’s less interesting than knowing how old you are.”

“And _that_ is your fault for asking a bad question.” He quirked an eyebrow at her as he had a bite of carrot, which he’d been holding delicately in his fingers. Even when he'd been nearly delirious, he’d eaten with manners.

“I’m not going to stop asking.”

“Juska, I have been stubborn for longer than you have been alive. This is not a winning strategy for you.” When she scowled at him, he grinned, then rose steadily and held out his hand.

“What?”

He blinked. “Your plate?”

“Oh.” She grabbed the last bit of carrot off it and passed it over. “Where are you taking it?”

“My intent was to wash it in the stream. Why?”

“I thought so.” She started to rise, and he waved her off.

“I’ve got it.”

Juska let him have this one. He was probably sick of hanging onto her like damp laundry. Just like she was sick of him being a wet blanket over the age thing. How old could he really be? He didn’t have age lines. Assuming elves even _got_ those. They’d have to, right? Her family had never been what she would call friendly with elves, so her bases for comparison were few.

He returned and knelt to return the plates to her pack, then settled back down beside her. “I’m not even out of breath. We may want to get on the road soon.”

“You realize there’s a lot of climbing between us and the embassy, right?”

He nodded. “I do remember that.”

Juska eyed him for several moments. “...Alright, but we’ll be going slow.”

He sighed heavily. “As you like.”

She noticed his fingers begin to slide along his wound. “Stop touching it! If you want to poke at something, bank the fire for the night.”

He obeyed her order, and she took the chance to walk to the stream and splash some water on her face. Gods, she wanted to wash her hair. Even she was tiring of being out in the woods at this point, and she was used to it. He clearly hated roughing it, and yet seemed less frustrated about their situation than she was.

Then again, he didn’t have a family that was probably worrying, and _would_ yell when she finally got back. But that was a problem for later. She shook the water from her hands and rose to return to the fire.

The elf had banked it pretty well, and seemed to have taken her advice, because he was sitting and poking at it with a stick. She stifled a laugh and moved to reclaim her spot beside him.

“Your stitches can come out soon, you know.”

“I’m sure that will be pleasant, but it will be good to have them gone.”

She grabbed a stick of her own and joined him in prodding at the fire. “Why do you keep poking at it, anyway?”

“Having something heal naturally is… new.” He frowned into the fire. “My mother was a healer, and we always serve with mages in the Thalmor.”

Juska began unwrapping the fur on the wrist of her left arm. “I’ve got a ton of scars. See?” She offered her bared forearm out for him to inspect. “There are three just on this arm.”

His hand reached out tentatively, and his long fingers brushed along the silvery line of the oldest scar. “It feels smooth. Mine seems raised.”

“Yeah.” She began unwrapping her other arm. “Those on me, they only cut the skin. Your Stormcloak friend sliced through skin _and_ muscle. There’s a lot of scar tissue.”

“I see.” He resumed staring at the fire.

Juska hauled her fur chestpiece off and set it aside with her bracers to get her skin some air. She looked down at the healing gash on his stomach and frowned. It clashed with his skin, and made her wonder what color it would be when it was old.  

“Sorry I couldn’t heal it more cleanly for you.”

Fandelmar’s face turned back toward her, and he eyed her soberly. “You have nothing to apologize for, Juska.”

She caught herself chewing on her lower lip and heard her ma shouting at her in her head to stop, so she licked at it instead. “I’m… gonna go to sleep, I think.”

“If we are moving tomorrow, I should, as well.”  He tossed his stick into the fire and rose with a slight hiss.

Juska looked up at him. “Yeah, I heard that. We’ll see tomorrow if we’re going or not.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling as he looked back down at her. “After you.”

She clambered to her feet and headed for the tent. The elf waited patiently until she was settled onto her side before claiming her bedroll for himself. “Will you be warm enough out of your armor?”

“Yeah. Nords can handle a lot.”

He pulled her blanket up to his ears. “You would have to, to live here.”

“You’d think that, but the other races are determined to try.”

“Hmm.”

His reply made her feel racist, so she kept talking to prevent the conversation from ending there. “Would you go home, if you had the chance?”

She watched his eyes close. “In a heartbeat.”

“Well, when we kick you Thalmor out of Skyrim, you’ll be all set.”

This made him chuckle, which was a better note to end on, so she stopped talking and let her eyes shut. Soon, his breathing took on the slow and even cadence of sleep, and she found that the sound made her tired enough to slip away, as well.

 

  
When Juska woke the next morning, the elf was awake and out of the tent. She listened for sounds of movement in the camp, but heard nothing.

Huh. She rose to begin searching around, but realized as soon as she was up that she probably knew where he was. Three steps into the treeline confirmed it; she could see him at the water, sitting bare-assed on the rock, absolutely dousing himself in water.

“You’re gonna catch cold!”

He started and stared over his shoulder. “ _Privacy_ , Juska!”

Juska laughed and started packing her things, but held off on putting out the campfire until she was sure he was healthy enough to start the walk. While she waited for him to come back, she shook out her fur chestpiece a few times and hoped that it had gotten enough air overnight.

The elf trudged back from the water a few minutes later, once again clothed, or at least as clothed as he could be. His hair was wet and slicked back, which made his ears seem pointier. And he was shivering. Great.

“Here is your soap.”

She took it and the cloth it was wrapped in from him. “Nice bath?”

“That water is frigid,” he said as he sat by the fire and began wringing out his hair.

“Which is why you should have kept your head dry, idiot.”

He shrugged while running his fingers through the hair at his temples, which had the effect of making him look like a golden chicken. “My hair was greasy and smelled like fire.”

“Well, at least I know what to engrave on your epitaph.”

He grinned over at her, then shook his hair out like a dog, splattering her with water. When she shrieked and swatted at his shoulder, he laughed. It was a heartening, healthy sound that he wouldn’t have been able to manage a few days ago without pain.

“How are you feeling?” She wiped a few stray droplets off her face as she spoke.

“Hungry. Restless,” he added through a shiver.

“Here.” She passed over her fur chestpiece. “You’re going to need some sort of shirt if we’re walking.”

He inspected it dubiously. “Will this fit?”

“It’s going to be a little small, but do you have a better idea?”

The elf shook his head, then began wrapping himself up. It was too short on him, and so sat awkwardly above the hem of his trousers, exposing an inch of skin all around his middle. His shoulders also weren’t covered, but it was better than nothing.

Juska frowned as she studied his new ensemble. “The second you start getting tired, we’re making camp, okay?”

When he nodded, she rose and started breaking down the tent. By the time she’d gotten it strapped to her pack, he’d finished trying to dry his hair and had risen from the fire. She took the chance to kick dirt over it, then looked around to see if she’d forgotten anything.

“Alright. Time to see how this goes.”

“Lead on.” He indicated the road with a sweeping gesture and fell into step behind her when she started walking. Once they were on the road, she paused until he was next to her so they’d be walking together.

“Sorry.” He gave her a small smile. “Habit. I usually walk last in line when traveling.”

“Is that a rank thing, or personal preference?”

“Personal preference.” The elf stepped on a rock and hissed.

“Your feet aren’t going to like this.” Juska frowned down at them.

“I am aware, Juska, believe me.”

They made better time than she was expecting on their first day. They traveled for a good portion of the morning before he began stumbling too much for her liking. Juska had to goad him into stopping to make camp, though he moved to sit down almost as soon as she’d selected a site. She insisted on checking his wound before she had even started the fire.

“Take off the fur so I can see your side.”

He sighed loudly, but obeyed, unwrapping it with fumbling fingers.

Juska knelt beside him and eyed his wound critically. “Sorry. I was worried the furs would chafe.”

“It feels fine. I’m just tired.”

She began clearing a circle for a small fire. “Well, I can feed us, which will hopefully get you some of your energy back. I’ll have to hunt something tomorrow, though.”

“Well, if today’s travel is any indication, you will have plenty of time for it.”

“You sound frustrated.”

The elf ran his hands through his hair, pulling it back from his face. “I apologize. I am, a bit.”

“You’re allowed. Take a breather. I’ll be back in a second.” She began searching around the area for wood to build a fire. If she’d been on her own she would have waited until dusk, but he needed the warmth. It took a few minutes, because the trees were more sparse here, but soon she was on her way back with an armload of branches.

When she got back, she found him in the process of pitching the tent.

“I told you to rest.”

“I have enough energy left to help with this. It feels good to be moving.”

Juska couldn’t argue with that, so she let him finish setting the tent up while she started the fire. By the time she was done, he’d rolled out her bedding and had collapsed on it with a soft groan.

She sat down at the tent entrance and peered in at him. He was sprawled on his back, arms and legs spread, with his eyes closed.

“Do you need water?”

He held out a hand. “Please.”

“Sit up,” she ordered as she unhooked the water skin from her belt.

“But I just laid down.” When she didn’t press the skin into his hand, he opened one eye to peer at her, then pushed himself up on his elbows with a grunt.

Juska averted her eyes from his flexed abdominals. “Good enough.”

She passed the skin over, and he took several long swallows before handing it back and collapsing onto the bedding again. Once reclaimed, it was her turn to have a drink.

“I’ll have to find us more tomorrow, too. We’re going to split off from the river in a couple of days, when it gets steep.”

The elf groaned. “Can we perhaps find a horse?”

“Horses are expensive. I can’t even afford new boots.”

He raised his head so that he could meet her eyes. “If I had my coin purse with me, I would remedy that, but it was in my pack.”

“I wouldn’t take your money, anyway.”

“Not even for your services as a healer?”

Juska left the entrance of the tent and began setting up a roasting spit for dinner. “Nah. My ma’s the healer.”

His voice drifted gently from the tent. “So I owe her for your skills.”

“You do, in fact.”

He fell silent, and Juska focused on getting the rest of the camp ready while he rested. By the time the sun was telling them to eat dinner, he was refreshed enough to come out and sit with her by the fire. It ended up being a quiet night, overall: he was tired, and she was thinking about how far this was taking her from her family. She went to bed homesick, and woke cranky.

It only took a few minutes on the road for her to realize that the elf wasn’t in much better of a mood. The road was rocky, and he kept cursing and hopping as he found stone after stone with his bare feet.

“ _Why_ are there so many rocks on this accursed road?” he hissed eventually.

Juska pointed at the jagged hills around them by way of answer, which he did not appreciate.

“This would be so much simpler if these roads were paved,” he muttered.

Sensing that there was no good reply for him in the moment, Juska bit her tongue and kept them walking. They managed to stay on the road longer than they had the day previously, but were still making camp by the afternoon. He sank onto the bedding and began inspecting his feet as she pitched the tent and got their camp ready for fire.

“I’m cut,” he announced to her eventually, and she looked over to find him smearing the dirt on the sole of a foot with a hand. “I thought this was all road grime, but there is blood, too.”

“Fuck.” She rolled back onto her haunches and frowned at him. “Wash them off. I’ll get us more water when I go hunt.”

He reached over where the skin was resting near her pack and began rinsing his feet.

“How many cuts?”

The elf paused to count. “Three. Two on the left, one on the right.”

“I’m out of all my healing shit.” She palmed her bow, chewing on her lip as she looked at the surrounding land. Fewer trees. It was going to be harder to hunt. “I’ll think of something. You rest. I’ll be back soon.”

He glanced toward the tent, then practically fell backward onto the bedding instead of moving. “You know where to find me, Juska.”

She gave a little wave and began her hunt, stalking through the rocks and long grasses, keeping an eye out for goats and pheasant. There were elk here, too, but they would be too big, and she didn’t want to waste the meat. It took longer than she would like, but she did manage to shoot a bird, find water, _and_ make it back to camp just before the sun had started setting.

The elf had reunited the tent and the bedding, but was sitting cross-legged by the fire. When she walked into view, he looked up and smiled. “Welcome back.”

“I have an idea.” She set her hunting things down on a rock and moved for her pack, rummaging until she located her fur bracers and what was left of his old shirt. “It’s not going to be pretty.”

“Nothing about this has been pretty.”

“Fair.” She moved beside him. “Can I have a foot, please?”

He frowned, but he uncrossed his legs and offered one out. She rested it on her knee and began wrapping it in the fur, using one of the final scraps of shirt to secure it. It didn’t cover his toes or heel, but it protected the soft bits up in the arch, which was going to have to be good enough.

The elf eyed her handiwork and frowned. “Juska. This is going to ruin your furs.”

She focused on the other foot instead of meeting his eyes. “Better my fur than your feet festering.”

He silently watched her wrap his other foot instead of replying, which made her feel oddly on display. When she finished, he re-crossed his legs, then reached over to rest a hand on her shoulder. She looked up reflexively, and he smiled at her.

“I appreciate it.”

Juska shook her head. “Stitches out before dinner, or after?”

He grimaced and sat back. “After. I worry I’ll be too queasy to eat if we do it before.”

She moved and began plucking the bird. “That’s probably the smart choice. I don’t think the pain will be bad enough to make you sick, either.”

“I certainly hope not.”

While she prepared dinner, he walked around and gathered more fallen wood for the fire. He still had to tread carefully, but it seemed like her makeshift shoes were helping. Which was good, because giving up her bracers put another obstacle between her and new boots. She was probably going to burn her arm with her bowstring.

“Better be worth it,” she muttered as she threaded the bird onto the spit.

“What was that?”

Juska jumped. “Huh? Nothing. Talking to myself.”

The sun had set by the time dinner was ready, which Juska didn’t realize until too late was going to make stitch removal more difficult. She resigned herself to this new challenge, and handed him his plate.

“It has been nice to get fresh food on the road, you know.”

Juska snorted. “Yeah, I saw the shit you were eating with the Thalmor.”

He shrugged. “It keeps forever.”

“I refuse to believe that High Elf cooks live however long they do and yet haven’t figured out anything better to feed you lot.”

“Standard Altmeri cooking is actually very involved.”  He punctuated this sentence by popping another bite of meat into his mouth.

“How does mine compare?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to compare them. They are completely different styles with different settings.”

“How diplomatic. Get me in a city and see how I cook then.”

He smiled. “I shall have to imagine it.”

Right. Because them meeting in a city would be a very bad thing. Juska looked back down at her plate, and they finished eating in silence.

When he handed back his plate, Juska tossed the leftover bits into the fire, then stashed it in her bag. That done, she went rummaging for a small knife from her healer’s kit.

“I’ll need you to lie down by the fire with the wound on the far side. You can move the bed if you want.”

“Thank you.” He shifted the bedroll quickly, then began unwrapping the fur from around his chest. Once that was set aside, he lay back, and Juska took a moment to wonder that it was possible for the firelight to make him seem even _more_ golden.

When the elf raised a brow at her, she licked her lips and moved to sit at his hips. “There’s going to be some, uh. Tugging.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, so Juska leaned in and began the process of cutting the stitches without cutting _him_. She silently thanked her brother for keeping her knives sharp each time the horsehair gave under the blade.

“Tugging now,” she warned him, then selected a piece of stitch and began to pull. He hissed, then groaned as the hair began sliding out of his skin.

A few pieces resisted and needed a bit of force, but the majority of them came out cleanly, which was a blessing, because he looked close to fainting. Juska removed the last bit and took a moment to look over the wound. Aside from the angry red dots lining either side of the now-closed gash, it seemed to be doing well. She leaned back and frowned down at him.

“You okay?”

He didn’t open his eyes. “That is easily the strangest sensation I have ever experienced. If I never have to feel something get pulled out of me again, it will still be too soon.”

Juska patted his knee. “Take your time getting up.”

He rose and took a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

She watched him carefully as he picked up the bedding and moved for the tent, but he did seem to be doing okay. Still, she was happy when he laid back down, because if he fainted he wouldn’t fall and hit his head.

“I’ve left as much room as I can,” he called from the tent.

“Thank you! I’ll try not to wake you when I come in.”

Juska wasn’t up for much longer, but he was already out cold when she clambered inside the tent. She studied him for a moment before turning in for the night. His hair was tangled, and was already getting dirty again. He was going to be a miserable mess by the end of their walk to the Thalmor Embassy. Poor guy. She turned so that she was facing the tent wall and willed herself to sleep.

The next morning they rose together, and she found that the night appeared to be as restful for him as it had been for her. They both woke in good moods, and he seemed to have more energy. This trend continued over the next few days, and soon they were walking for most of the day at a time. He still stepped on rocks, but received no new cuts, and the wound at his side had reduced itself to an angry, puffy pink scar.

They arrived at the road to the Embassy at mid-afternoon. The elf had spent the last two days leading, as they were back into territory that he found familiar. At a fork in the road, he paused, and then smiled down at her as he began to remove her armor from his middle.

“I hope you won’t mind if I ask for us to part ways here. The embassy is about an hour’s walk up this road, and I feel confident that I can get myself there.” He handed over her fur.

Juska shook her head and folded the fur over her forearm. “I’m not walking you straight into the lion’s den, promise or no.”

“Understandable.” He studied her seriously. “Once again, thank you for saving my life, Juska.”

She grinned. “Don’t mention it.”

“I won’t.”

“And no offense, but I hope I never see you again.”  Her smile widened to soften the words.

The elf reached out and took her hand. His thumb slid over its back before he bowed slightly and pressed his lips to it. “Likewise, Juska,” he murmured. His lips brushed lightly against her skin again as he said her name.

Juska felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach as Fandelmar released her hand, but thankfully he was already turning and walking up the road toward the embassy, shirtless and shoeless and filthy from travel. She took a moment to put her fur back on, then a few more when she realized that it smelled like him.

How did she even _know_ what he smelled like?

...Yeah. It was a good thing they were parting ways. Determinedly ignoring her racing pulse, she turned and began walking southward towards Markarth and the promise of an angry family. It was long, long past time for her to be home.


	5. Fandelmar

The Thalmor posted at the doors hadn’t quite been sure what to do with Fandelmar when he stumbled up the road toward the Thalmor Embassy, and he couldn’t blame them. With no shirt, no shoes, and blood-stained trousers, he was certain that he looked like a wild creature. One of the guards had run for their commander, while the other escorted him a bit bemusedly to the infirmary. The healer saw to his cut feet, led him to a screened alcove, and then told him to take a bath.

That was an order Fandelmar was only too happy to accept. He sank into the water in the tub with joy, a feeling which faded quickly when he noticed how the water clouded around him from all the dirt he had collected on the road. That made him feel as though he were basting in grime, so he lathered himself from head to toe, rinsed, and was out of the water much more rapidly than was normal for him.

Once he was clean, the healer gave him a more thorough examination.

“Your side is butchered permanently, I’m afraid,” he said. “Magic will do nothing for it now.”

He ran his fingers along the ridge of flesh at his side. He could almost hear Juska scolding him for it. “The point is, I survived.”

The healer handed over a stack of fresh clothes, and Fandelmar was able to dress fully for the first time in weeks.

“Ambassador Elenwen wishes to see you,” said the other mer. “I believe she’s had food sent to her office for you.”

Fandelmar bowed, determinedly ignoring his stomach as it rumbled. “I will head there now. Thank you for the help.”

His boots needed to be broken in, and made the short walk from the healer’s chamber to Elenwen’s a bit loud. When he made it to her door, he paused to knock.

“Come in,” she called, and he obeyed.

Fandelmar saluted after he reached the center of the room. “You asked for me, ambassador?”

Her hazel eyes looked him over critically from behind her ornate wooden desk, the top of which was currently dominated by a large platter of pastries and fruit. When she spoke again, it was in their native tongue, which caused his brain to stumble over the words. He’d been thinking in common for weeks now.

“Yes. Please, sit. I’m told you arrived wearing a great deal of blood.”

He settled into the chair. Auri-El, he had missed chairs. It took a moment, but he found the words he needed in Aldmeris. “Most of it was my own, unfortunately.”

“You fared better than your companions, at least. They were discovered on the road to Markarth a few days ago. They’d been robbed, of course, but one of the men recognized Nethraneron regardless.”

Fandelmar nodded. “A party of Stormcloaks came upon us. We weren’t expecting a fight, considering previous interactions with them have been neutral. As awkward as it is to admit, they bested me rather quickly. A….” He paused for a moment as he realized he hadn’t thought of a story that would protect Juska. “A hunter found me and sewed up my side, then left me to my own devices. She was kind enough to leave rations, however.”

The ambassador made a thoughtful noise. “A hunter? That might explain something that has been puzzling us. Osric died to an arrow wound, but none of the Stormcloaks had bows.”

“That….”  _Juska_. Fandelmar licked his lips. “I’m sorry, commander. I saw no one shooting. It must have happened after I fell unconscious.”

“Ah, well.” She gestured to the spread between them. “I’m simply happy that you’ve returned to us. We feared you’d been taken prisoner by Ulfric’s men. He’s been rather unfriendly as of late. Please, eat.”

Fandelmar immediately reached for a savory pastry. He could taste the herbs and cheese well before it had made it to his mouth. It was hard to restrain himself, but he managed to savor the flake and the flavor of the crust as his commander filled him in on her plans. He would have a week off to recuperate from his ordeal. Afterward, he and two others would be dispatched to reinforce the Thalmor who’d been sent to Markarth after his party failed to arrive.

“The problem there is apparently worse than we previously feared,” she said with a frown. “Ondolemar made it sound as though there were one or two cultists, but initial reports suggest a large ring of them. They need the extra eyes.”

“Of course, ambassador. With whom will I be traveling?”

“Rumion will be leading. Lascelmo will also be along to assist. Their normal third seems to have caught some sort of crippling illness from this….” She frowned out the window for a moment. “This place. She’s in the infirmary.”

Fandelmar nodded as he considered this. He remembered Rumion from his early days in the Thalmor. The man was a true fanatic, who believed that men should be subordinate to meri. Before Fandelmar was sent to Skyrim, he had heard that Rumion was instrumental in reducing the number of non-Aldmeri people in Summerset. Of Lascelmo, however, he had heard very little, which meant he had done nothing to distinguish himself. That could be good, or very, very bad.

Elenwen seemed to jolt out of a reverie of her own and reached for a cluster of grapes with a sigh. “While I am sad at the loss of your companions, it is good you survived the attack. We have been dealing with some very strange news recently, and the loss of our brethren on top of it was quite depressing.”

“News, ambassador?”

She shook her head, then popped a grape into her mouth, chewing and swallowing before replying. “Nothing to worry yourself over, Fandelmar. You need rest. Now, why don’t you make up a plate of food and then go to the armory to resupply? Once you’re done, you’re free to rest in one of the rooms in the infirmary rather than the main barracks.”

His eyebrows raised. “Thank you, ambassador. The peace will be appreciated.”

Elenwen rose from her desk and moved to the window as he piled a plate with fruit and pastries. His body was insistent that he have something other than meat. Once he was done, he rose and said his goodbyes.

“Recover quickly, soldier. Markarth needs you.”

Fandelmar dutifully walked himself to the armory next, and looked longingly toward his plate of food as he was measured and fitted for replacement armor. His new sword felt strange in his hand, and after a few test swings, he realized why: it was lighter than his previous sword had been. He would need to practice with it.

…In a few days. When he tested an overhead swing, his side twinged so sharply that he was momentarily dizzy.

Half an hour later, he was walking toward the infirmary, plate of food balanced precariously atop a neat pile of new gear in his arms. His side ached from the weight of the armor, but it was a short enough walk that he hadn’t wanted to ask for assistance.

“Excuse me,” he asked the healer when he re-entered the infirmary, “which room is mine for the week?”

“Pick one that’s free.” The healer didn’t look up from where he was busily sorting bottles.

“Very well.” Fandelmar paused, then continued, ”is there anything I could have for pain? My side aches when I lift my weapon.”

This got his attention, and he fixed Fandelmar with disapproving golden eyes. “No lifting for the week. The last thing the new muscle you’re growing needs is you overworking it.” He lifted a bottle and held it out. “Two sips every four hours.”

Fandelmar raised an eyebrow, but shifted the load in his arms enough to take the bottle, then fumbled his way toward the nearest door. He nearly lost his plate of food in the struggle to get the door open, but managed to save it with some undignified wobbling. The plate, he put on the desk just inside the door. His kit was relegated to the desk’s chair. That settled, he glanced between the table and the bed, knowing that he should eat at the former like a civilized person, but desperately wanting the softness of the latter. Comfort won, and soon he was stretched out on the bed, munching away at his meal.

Once his belly was full, exhaustion took over. Instead of fighting it, he curled up under the covers and enjoyed the sensation of being both comfortable and warm enough for the first time in weeks. Before he succumbed to sleep, he mulled over what Elenwen had told him about Osric. Juska had told him that the Stormcloaks killed his compatriots, but that was clearly not the case. He found that he was neither surprised nor bothered by the revelation. Osric had not been kind to Juska, and she had seen an opportunity to exact her revenge.

...Though, Fandelmar now had two secrets to keep from his order. He knew this should worry him, but sleep was insisting that these were problems for later, and soon he had succumbed to the lull of the creature comforts surrounding him.

****

 

For the next few days, Fandelmar mainly slept, read, and ate, with occasional breaks to walk the halls and test his energy levels. He also bathed daily, much to the healer’s annoyance. He was walking from the bathing alcove back to his room on the fifth day when he found a mer waiting for him, dressed in Thalmor robes. The robed mer turned to face Fandelmar, and he felt a faint ripple of recognition. Paler skin than the typical Altmer, with hazel eyes and hair so dark that it was nearly brown, framing a face that was lightly lined with age.

“Rumion, I presume?”

The mer nodded. “Fandelmar. As we are leaving for Markarth once you’ve completed convalescing, I thought it might be prudent to formally introduce myself.”

“Well met.” Fandelmar bowed before stepping to the door to his room and opening it. “Please, come in. It’s small, but there are chairs, at least.”     

Rumion followed him in and settled into the chair on the wall opposite the bed. Fandelmar transferred his kit from the chair at the desk to the desk’s top, and then turned the chair toward Rumion before sitting himself.

“How much work have you done with the Talos cult in the past, Fandelmar?”

Right down to business, then. Fandelmar steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. “Directly? Very little. Under Nethraneron, we typically handled the loud ones who drew attention easily to themselves. They were rarely affiliated with a ring of worshippers, since they lacked discretion.”

Rumion nodded. “You’ll find the situation in Markarth to be quite different. We suspect there is a priest working in secret to convert as many townsfolk as possible, but we have yet to find anyone who would expose him. Our task is to locate the cultists we can and make examples of them in the hopes of drawing out the rest.”

“Just tell me what to do, and I will see it done.”

This seemed to please Rumion. “Excellent. I will fill you in on details during our trip in with Lascelmo. We’ll be riding, by the way. Ondolemar is tired of the delays.”

Fandelmar chuckled dryly. “As someone currently recovering from said delay, I can relate.”

“How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Stronger. If the healer would allow it, I would be in my armor, practicing with my new blade. But he says I need the full week to rest.”

Rumion shook his head. “How strange that a random hunter saved you.”

“Believe me, I feel the same way. But, it worked out in my favor.”

“It certainly did.” Rumion rose and gave Fandelmar a small bow. “Thank you for allowing me to interrupt your rest. I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise, Rumion. I believe we will do well under your leadership in Markarth.”

“Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Rumion moved for the door. Once he’d exited, Fandelmar left his chair and fell backward onto the bed, sighing deeply. Duty called. Occasionally he wondered how he had ended up in Skyrim ferreting out cultists, given what his goals had been when he became a Thalmor. This was a far cry from working to protect the Summerset Isles. But, he knew that he would be sent back home eventually, where the work would be more palatable.

All he had to do was wait. Wait, and write to his grandfather. Fandelmar made a mental note to do that as soon as he woke from the nap looming enticingly over his afternoon.

 

Fandelmar’s final two days of rest were uneventful. On the morning after, he rose and began strapping himself into his new armor for the journey, noting with pleasure that his side was aching significantly less. Hopefully that meant their trip by horseback would be relatively painless.

When he went to the barracks to meet Rumion, he found Lascelmo already at their leader’s side. His skin was darker, almost swarthy, which made his green eyes and pale hair stand out sharply. And he was _tall,_ standing a full head over both himself and Rumion.

Lascelmo greeted him with a cheerful smile. “Ah, the stand-in has arrived! On time, even. This is a good sign!”

Fandelmar smiled back. “My intent was to be early, but the two of you seem ready to go.”

Rumion nodded and began walking brusquely toward the stable. “Yes. I suggest we mount up and get on the road.”

Fandelmar and Lascelmo fell into step behind Rumion, immediately settling into their roles as the justiciar’s bodyguards. When they rode out, Lascelmo kept Rumion between him and Fandelmar on the road. Their pace was rapid, and there was very little talking once he’d been given the details of the trip. Both of his companions seemed very alert for any sign of attack. Fandelmar couldn’t really blame them, given what had happened to him, but also felt that the horses gave them a distinct advantage.

Then again… most everyone seemed aware that Osric had been lost to an arrow. An ambush would be much harder to protect against than a simple patrol on the road. So, though he didn’t share his compatriots’ paranoia that there were Nords with bows waiting somewhere out in the trees, ready to shoot them with no warning, he _did_ keep quiet and alert to keep up appearances.

The horses drastically reduced their travel time, for which Fandelmar was incredibly grateful. He was dusty from the road by the time they reached the crumbling stone city, but much cleaner than he would have been had they traveled by foot. The Nords guarding the gates let them in, though a bit coldly, which Fandelmar had expected. What he did _not_ expect was the hush that descended upon the market when the three of them entered in their robes and armor.

“You see?” murmured Rumion. “This city has a great deal to hide.”

They made for the keep to find Ondolemar, though the walk to get there was convoluted enough to make Fandelmar feel somewhat lost. Everywhere he looked, there were stone steps leading up or down, sharp corners, and falling water. The city was a labyrinth.

Ondolemar made it clear that he’d been expecting another delay. “I was beginning to wonder if the additional boots on the ground that Elenwen kept promising me were ever actually going to arrive.”

Fandelmar kept his mouth shut, which worked out nicely, because Rumion clearly wished to do all the talking. The four of them settled into the main room of Ondolemar’s suite to debrief them on the current state of the investigation. Ondolemar believed they might have a lead at last.

“There is a Nord bard who got a little too drunk at the inn two nights ago and let slip a few things about Talos,” Ondolemar said. “While this in and of itself is not enough to detain him, it does make him a person of interest.”

“Of course,” Rumion agreed. “We will look into it.”

“His house is on the top level, above the market. The steps in this accursed city are old and slippery, so take care.”

Ondolemar then summoned a human servant, likely from the keep’s staff, and had her show them to their sleeping quarters. The three of them would be sharing a room, but to his surprise, it was relatively spacious. He’d been expecting stone beds, as well, but those were either a rumor about Markarth, or louder, more demanding meri had come before them and solved the problem themselves.

Rumion suggested they walk a quick tour of the city to get their bearings. The steps in the main city were grueling, and just as damp as Ondolemar had said. Fandelmar slipped twice, but each time, Lascelmo caught him by the arm.

“Apologies. I’m not quite healed yet, it seems.”

Lascelmo just grinned and smacked him lightly on the back. “You’re doing fine, soldier.”

They were on the upper level, quietly discussing in Aldmeris the places where they could stand and observe over the next few days, and honestly completely oblivious to the press of people around them, when a clear voice cut into their plans.

“Excuse me. I need to use the stairs.”

Oh, gods. He would know that voice anywhere.

Fandelmar looked toward its source with a sinking feeling. Sure enough, standing before them was Juska, clean-skinned, loose-haired, and in a soft grey dress. A dress with long sleeves, meant to hide a certain tattoo.

Her blue eyes flicked over each of them, then widened slightly as she noticed Fandelmar. His pulse began to race as soon as their eyes met.

“My apologies, miss,” he said, immediately stepping to the side to break their eye contact and allow her to pass.

She took the steps at a sedate pace, not once looking back, and was gone around a corner before Fandelmar was done processing what had just happened.

“As you can see,” Rumion told them dryly, “the locals are unlikely to make this either pleasant or easy.”

“Yes,” Fandelmar agreed. This had just become the farthest thing from easy. The Talos-worshipping woman who had saved his life was in Markarth, and his job dictated that he tell Rumion all he knew about her immediately, because she and her family would likely bring them one step closer to the priest Ondolemar was after.

Fandelmar’s _conscience_ , however, demanded his silence, and so he kept his mouth shut as they continued their tour of the city.


	6. Juska

Talos’ tits, but Juska’s ma could hold a grudge. When she’d made it back home, Ma had started screaming in the main thoroughfare and hadn’t stopped until well after they’d walked to their little house down by the pond. _Where have you been? We thought you were dead!_

Since this was one of the rare cases when honesty would make the problem worse, not better, Juska was forced to follow up her weeks of absence with a series of lies. She’d found a hunter when she was out. He’d been... mauled by a sabercat. Yes, that’s why there was dried blood on her new tent. Yes, that’s why she’d come back empty-handed; they’d needed to eat while he recovered!

Ma was somewhat mollified when she was told how much her healer training had helped Juska, but she didn’t let something small like pride get in the way of what she considered appropriate punishment. _No hunting for you, young lady! Not for a good long while!_

Gods. She was _never_ going to get her new boots.

Her older brother, Sven, had done little more than silently laugh in the corner of the room as Juska was dressed-down. But once Ma had stormed back outside in a huff, he stepped in to smooth things over.

“She was worried, Jus.”

He held out his hand, just like he did every time she came home, and she wordlessly passed over her knives. As he settled in to begin sharpening them, Juska paced the tiny floor of their main room.

“I know, I know. I felt terrible the entire time I was gone, but I couldn’t just let him die.”

“You did the right thing. You’re gonna have to pay for it, but it was still the right thing.”

Sure. He thought that now. Juska kept pacing. “Is Pa mad?” When her brother nodded, she cursed. “Fuck.”

“Language,” her brother murmured. “The girls are in.”

Juska clapped a hand over her mouth and looked toward the room her little sisters shared. Sure enough, three pairs of blue eyes were peering back at her. “Hey.”

The triplets gravitated toward her, seeking hugs, and soon she was covered in ten-year-olds. Ma chose this moment to storm back in through the front door.

“You,” she pointed at Juska, “will be teaching them,” she pointed at her sisters, “how to shoot. Once they can hit a bullseye? I’ll trust you outside the city.”

“Maaaaaaaaa!” Juska pouted. “I said I was sorry!”

“If you don’t like it, you can get married and move out.” Ma caught Sven smiling, and whirled on him. “The same goes for you.”

He shook his head. “Pa needs me in the mines.”

“And we _all_ need me hunting!”

“We managed without you for a _month_. We can manage a few more weeks with no meat.”

Ugh. Juska slumped into a chair and pulled her oldest little sister into her lap. “Well, it’s up to you, Nora. Think you can hit a bullseye for me?”

Her sister nodded soberly.

“All right. We’ll start tomorrow. All three of you,” Juska added, when her youngest sister Emilie began creeping back toward the bedroom. “I don’t care how good your book is.”

Sven passed her knives over, and Juska settled them back into their places in her pack and in her boot. Her sister, ever helpful, didn’t move from Juska’s lap, but she still managed. With as many of them as were crammed into this house, working around other people was an exceptionally well-developed skill of hers.

“Go wash up. You’re filthy,” her mother muttered. “You’re going to get Nora dirty holding her like that.”

“Yes, Ma.”

Juska slid her sister to the floor and then rose to head for the room she and Sven shared. After closing the door, she rummaged through the chest at the foot of her bed, pulling out a clean grey dress and her city shoes. Once those were laid out on the bed, she moved to the washbasin and began to strip.

It felt good to get the grime off. It took a bit of scrubbing, especially under her nails, where dirt and blood had collected. As she worked at it, she wondered morbidly how much of it was Fandelmar’s. What a memento to bring back with her.

With the help of several soapy cloths, she eventually got her skin clean. Her hair took a bit more work. First the braids had to come out, and then she had to wet it, scrub it, _and_ rinse it in what was now semi-clean water. She’d probably rinse it out again tomorrow, but it felt a lot better regardless.

When Juska was dressed again, she grabbed the basin and stepped outside to empty it, then refilled it from the pitcher in their kitchen. That done, she reported back to Ma for approval.

“Well, you don’t look like a Forsworn anymore, at least.”

Juska sighed. “That’s my life’s goal, Ma.”

Ma handed over a pouch of herbs. “I refilled this. For your pack.”

This made Juska smile. It was as close to an apology as she was going to get for all the yelling. “Thank you. Hopefully I won’t need it, but it’s good to have.”

“When I was out earlier, I sent a message to the mines to let your father know you’re back. I expect he’ll be home soon.”

“It’ll be good to see him.”

“You say that now. He’s going to yell, too.”

Her mother paced off to start their dinner, and Juska took the time to see to her armor. It needed brushing out, or beating with a stick… or just replaced. It still smelled faintly of the elf, a fact which she resented immensely. But, caring for it kept her busy while she waited for the next round of yelling.

When Pa came home an hour or so later, he took one look at Juska and wrapped her in a tight hug. “I prayed to Talos every night you were gone, girl.”

Juska was _sure_ Talos had loved that. Pray for the girl who was out helping the enemy? Great. “Thank you, Pa. I missed everyone so much.”

Her father’s scolding began once the hug was out of the way. She ran through her lie again, and felt so guilty when she realized he was proud of her for what he thought had happened.

“My girl, giving so much to help a stranger.” He kissed her forehead. “And back in time for service tonight.”

Ma looked up sharply from the stew pot she was dishing from. “Aarne, there are Thalmor in town. It’s not safe.”

_What?_

“ _Faith_ isn’t safe,” he retorted as he took a bowl from her and sat down at their table. “We need a service now more than ever, precisely because they are here.”

Juska looked to Sven, who just shook his head. “...How long have there been Thalmor here?” she asked.

“They showed up two weeks ago and have been skulking about like the vermin they are ever since,” Pa told her. “Now sit. Eat. You’re too thin, Juska.”

She started to chew on her lip, but caught herself before her mother could yell, and took her place without another word. Dinner was quiet, because everyone was worried. Even the triplets seemed out of sorts. Thalmor in the Reach was one thing, but in the city itself? That was bad. Even if her father _wasn’t_ the local priest, it would be bad. So many people she knew were in danger.

That, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to get caught because her father was too stubborn to be prudent.

Ma seemed to share this opinion; she set aside her bowl once she was finished eating and walked into their room, which was her father’s cue to follow and shut them in. Sven and Juska did their best to distract their little sisters as their parents fought on the other side of their heavy metal door. Their fight was pointless, really, because Juska knew who was going to win. Ma might run the house, but when it came to religion, Pa always came out on top.

When they re-emerged, Juska was surprised to learn that her mother had managed to win one concession: until the Thalmor left, the shrine to Talos was off-limits. It would be too easy to find, and to find them inside. Instead, her father agreed to hold several shorter services on their meeting nights in private homes, where a few people gathering wouldn’t seem unusual.

Pa wasn’t happy, exactly, but even he agreed some caution would be best. Sven was sent “to tell the faithful,” and everyone else busied themselves around the house while he was out. Juska found herself washing the dishes with a vengeance while Nora dried them and put them away.

“Are we going to be okay?” she asked, and Juska felt her heart hurt.

“We just have to be careful, sweetie. No Talos outside the house, remember?”

“Yeah.” Her sister studied the plate in her hand. “I just don’t want the elves to take Pa.”

“Ma won’t let that happen. She’ll make him be careful.”

Nora just shook her head and put the plate away, and they finished the dishes in silence.

Their father left after nightfall to begin his rounds for service, and the rest of them piled dutifully into the living room to wait. The girls drew on scrap paper on the floor, Ma hemmed a torn dress, and Sven and Juska read. Well, Sven read. Juska stared at the book in her hands and worried about elves in golden armor.

Pa returned safely a few hours later, and they finished the evening with a service of their own. Juska tried to run through the prayers faithfully, but she found that she didn’t agree with her father’s assertions that this was all a test from Talos.

Once prayer was over, everyone headed for bed. Juska sank onto her mattress, feeling bone tired. The yelling she’d expected. She was still glad to be home, despite being in trouble. But she’d also expected that she’d be able to put the Thalmor from her mind once she was safely within the city’s gates. Now, though, she felt like she’d been safer in the wilderness.

She wouldn’t be lucky enough to meet another Thalmor like Fandelmar, she knew. If she were caught again, or anyone in her family were, that would be it.

 

Sleep was hard to come by that night, and for several nights afterward. Juska spent a great deal of time out around town, both running errands and teaching the girls to use a bow, and so she saw more of the Thalmor than she would have liked. She thought there were three of them, which seemed about right from previous experience. They spent most of their time patrolling, or simply standing and watching.

It was unnerving at first, but after the fifth day she was used to them, and more than slightly frustrated by their constant presence. This was _her_ city. She shouldn’t need to feel afraid when she was out of her house. Which was why, when she found three Thalmor between her and the stairs that afternoon, she asked them to move instead of going around them.

“Excuse me. I need to use the stairs.”

When they turned to look at her, she realized that they weren’t the three Thalmor she’d been seeing around. There appeared to be six in the city now, because the one in the robes was too pale, his guard was too _tall,_ and the other one was—

_Fandelmar_.

It took a second to recognize him in armor, but it was definitely him. Her eyes widened before she could help it, but she managed to keep the rest of her face bland.

“My apologies, miss.” He didn’t even miss a beat, and was stepping aside to let her pass almost instantly.

Juska was so thrown by seeing him that she didn’t even remember walking down the stairs and turning the first corner to get out of their line of sight. It was only when she was most of the way to the gate that she regained her bearings, and felt panic trying to set in.

Gods. _Fuck_. Why was he here? Was he going to turn her in? Was he going to turn her _family_ in? He’d been pleasant on the road, _nice_ even, but his survival had depended on her. What if it had been an act?

The rest of the night was a wash; she broke a dish while cleaning up after dinner, and was so distracted during prayer that Pa yelled. The stress of the Thalmor being here was getting to him, too. Several of the faithful had stopped attending the private services already, and he was worried that was only going to keep happening.

Juska could empathize with the ones who had ducked out. They had families to protect. And she had a family to protect, too, which was why she started basically stalking the Thalmor in her spare time, trying to find a chance to catch Fandelmar alone. It took several days to manage, because he was nearly _always_ with the tall one or the robed one.

When she did catch him out alone, she brushed past him conspicuously and ducked around a corner, hoping that he would follow. Moments later, she heard the clanking of armor behind her, and turned to find him standing at the mouth of the little alley, backlit by the sun, and looking taller and more golden than ever.

She pitched her voice low. “Are you alone?”

He nodded, and stepped toward her. The shadow of the adjacent building made his expression unreadable. “Juska. You didn’t tell me your home was in Markarth.”

“Of course I didn’t!” she hissed. “Why would I have told you where to _find_ us?”

Fandelmar had the gall to sound hurt. “So that I would have been prepared?”

She stepped in close and stared up at him. “Are you here for me?”

Now she could see his face, and he looked angry. “ _No_.”

“Are you here for my family?”

He shook his head. “The Thalmor are here because a priest of Talos is rumored to be here. We are looking for people actively spreading those teachings. I highly doubt my brethren are going to be interested in your family when compared to that.”

Juska felt the blood drain from her face, and hoped that he didn’t notice. She forced herself to focus on the good; he clearly didn’t know who her father was. But gods, Nine Divines, he _was_ here for her family.

“Okay. Thank you.” She took a deep breath and took a step away.

Fandelmar studied her, which made her cross her arms. “You look well,” he said after a moment.

“And you look terrifying.” He frowned, and she felt strangely guilty, so she added, “Your side okay?”

“Nearly normal.”

“Good. I got banned from hunting over it, so it had _better_ be normal.”

When she saw him smile in response to this, she took another step backward. His smile faded, and he glanced over his shoulder. “...I should leave you be. I promise to interfere with you as little as possible while I’m here, Juska.”

“T-Thank you.”

She looked down at her feet and waited for him to leave. After a few long, long breaths, he turned and walked away without another word. Once he was gone, she leaned her forehead against the nearest wall and began thwacking it gently against the stone.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Ow.

Juska needed to tell her family that the Thalmor were here for them. But how? How was she going to convince her father that he was in very real danger, without admitting _why_ she knew?


	7. Fandelmar

* * *

“The patterns of the Nords in town are changing,” Rumion said over the sound of their boots on stone as the three of them walked for breakfast. “Something is going on.”

Lascelmo nodded. “I’ve noticed more activity at dusk. Several families seem to be hosting other people for the evening.”

“Do we believe they are meeting about us?” Fandelmar fidgeted with his left bracer, which felt like it was sitting wrong.

Rumion shook his head. “I believe they’re meeting about Talos. We need to get that bard.”

“It’s a pity their Jarl won’t let us search his house,” Lascelmo said.

Fandelmar fell back to let the other two pass through the door to the breakfast area first. “Ogmund seems to be a respected member of the city. Those in power will naturally be reluctant to detain him. He will need to mess up somewhere in public.”

Rumion nodded. “Fandelmar, I want you on him as much as possible.”

“Consider it done.”

The three of them picked up plates and began browsing the breakfast spread. Fandelmar helped himself to cold meats and fruit, but avoided the Nordic pastries, which he had found to be far too sweet. He noted a bowl of snowberries with a small frown and tried not to think of the look on Juska’s face when they’d spoken in the alley. It had been so easy to forget that they weren’t friends while out in the woods.

Food selected, they sat down at a corner table and resumed their day’s planning. Rumion spent a decent amount of time scowling at his food, but Lascelmo seemed much more complacent with what was on offer. In between bites, he told them some important news.

“Yesterday, I learned that there is a shrine to Talos here.”

“ _What_?” Rumion nearly spit out a grape.

Lascelmo nodded. “It’s officially closed, but I don’t believe that they ever actually lock the door.”

“Does Ondolemar know?”

“I don’t know.”

Fandelmar swallowed a bite of food before speaking. “I suspect another technicality, much like with the bard. Since no one is ‘using’ the shrine, there is no point locking it up. No laws are being broken. It allows them to avoid destroying it and having angry locals accuse the government of desecrating it.”

“It’s a treaty violation,” Rumion insisted.

“Needless to say, I think it would be a good idea to watch the shrine,” Lascelmo said.

Rumion nodded. “I agree. It might be a better use of time than following the bard.”

“Would you like me to stand watch with Lascelmo, Rumion?”

His superior leaned back in his chair and considered for a moment. “Yes, I believe I would.”

Fandelmar nodded and resigned himself to a long day of standing. He doubted that anybody was going to be foolish enough to enter the shrine while they were in town, but wasn’t about to tell that to his compatriots. So far, everyone he had watched had seemed well aware that there were nine Thalmor in town, even if Ondolemar, his men, and the other justiciar tended to stick to the keep.

The rest of the breakfast conversation mainly consisted of Rumion grumbling about the quality of Nord food while Fandelmar picked at the snowberries on his plate and Lascelmo finished cleaning his. Afterward, Rumion rose to go check in with Ondolemar, and the two of them returned to their room to get kitted up.

“I feel like we might make more progress if we didn’t clank about in golden armor all day, you know?” Lascelmo said as he buckled himself into his cuirass.

“I agree, but we cut far less intimidating figures out of the armor. Hopefully we'll make someone so nervous just by being in sight that they slip up.”

Lascelmo laughed at that and reached over to clap him on the shoulder. “You’ve got a good sense of humor on you.”

“Thank you.”

Once they were armored up, Lascelmo led him to the shrine’s entrance, and they took a conspicuous spot across from it from which to observe. Fandelmar wanted to stand farther back, but Lascelmo was insistent that this way they’d see reactions from the people walking by.

His plan did work, but not in the sense either of them had intended. They’d been standing in relative silence for half the day before Fandelmar’s companion startled him by speaking.

“You seem to have an admirer.” Lascelmo pointed, and Fandelmar’s heart sank when he noticed Juska walking by. “Every time she sees you, she stares.”

“Ah. Yes, her.” He gave a short laugh. “Would you believe she approached me the other day while you and Rumion were speaking with Ondolemar?”

Lascelmo’s eyebrows raised, and he grinned. “What did she want?”

Fandelmar forced himself to return the smile. “To ‘talk.'” He laced the word with meaning it didn’t have.

“Ah. She’s pretty, for a human. And you know, if you sneak off one night, Rumion is unlikely to mind.”

He shook his head. “My tastes don’t run to humans.”

“You’re missing out.” Lascelmo leaned against the wall behind them and resumed studying the crowd around them. “I was married to a human, once.”

Fandelmar didn’t bother hiding his surprise. “You were?”

“Yes. She was a pretty little Breton, or at least she was at first.” Lascelmo made a face. “They just age too fast. It’s what made me join the Thalmor, actually.”

“...I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Humans are chronically short-sighted and destructive because they don’t live long enough to see the consequences of their actions. It’s not wilful, they just can’t help it.” He crossed his arms. “Having a longer-lived race in charge, making the decisions, would be a kindness to them. And, there would be a great deal less chaos in the world.”

“Would your wife have agreed with this?”

He shrugged. “We often don’t like what’s best for us, do we? If my parents had let me do everything I’d wanted growing up, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t be, either.”

“Also, I found myself making decisions that affected my entire life, all for someone who was going to die in a few decades.” Lascelmo shook his head. “It made no sense, looking back on it.”

“Then I’m considering it a good thing that my tastes don’t run to humans,” Fandelmar replied.

“I agree.” And with that, he resumed watching the crowd, much to Fandelmar’s relief. He’d had his fill of casual racism for the day. Casual racism, and a creeping feeling in his gut about hiding Juska from the Thalmor. It wasn’t guilt, not exactly. Rather, he couldn’t shake the feeling, at least not intellectually, that it wasn’t the smart choice.

Even still, he wasn’t about to ruin a girl’s life just so that his could be a bit easier. A perk of living as long as meri tended to was the very tangible knowledge it provided that nothing was permanent. This situation would pass, as had every other terrible one he’d ever been in. All he needed to do was be patient. Patience would get him through the rest of this day of standing, and then it would eventually get him out of Skyrim.

They saw no one of note other than Juska during their vigil, and left as the sun was beginning to set to go report to Rumion. He was disappointed that their plan failed, but Lascelmo was insistent that since it was only day one, it was too soon to know if it actually had. Rumion appeared mollified by this, while Fandelmar simply silently resigned himself to more standing and staring.

That night, Fandelmar found himself tossing and turning in bed, despite feeling drained from doing nothing all day. After an hour’s restless staring at the ceiling, he rose and began lacing himself into his boots.

“Slipping out after all?” murmured Lascelmo.

Fandelmar jumped. “No. I can’t sleep. I was going to do a round or two of walking to try to get my body to agree to rest.”

To his surprise, the other mer rose and reached for his boots, as well. “I was lying here thinking about checking in on the shrine. Perhaps it’s more busy after dark. Care to join me?”

“Certainly.”

Once the two of them were laced in, Fandelmar let Lascelmo lead the way to the shrine. The city was dark, and chillier than he’d been expecting. It was all the damp coming off the streams and waterfalls, he decided as they trudged toward the door to the shrine. Lascelmo quietly indicated a shadowy alcove that would keep them hidden, but the door in sight, and Fandelmar nodded and made that way.

The city was almost pretty at night. What was sickly and damp during the day shone crisply in the moonlight, which was soft enough to hide all the jagged edges and crumbling bits that served as a clear reminder that the city was, first and foremost, a repurposed ruin. Fandelmar spent the first hour of their wait observing all of these changes, and was about to ask Lascelmo how long they intended to stay when the other mer gripped his shoulder.

There was a cloaked man approaching the shrine. His features were obscured, but he was the right height to be a Nord. Fandelmar held his breath as the man looked around for any observers before pulling open the door to the shrine and stepping in.

“Give him three minutes, and then we’ll go in after,” Lascelmo whispered in his ear. “I want to see what he’s doing, which we won’t know if we barge in now.”

Fandelmar nodded and began to count the seconds, hoping all the while that the idiot Nord would walk back out before he could be caught doing anything at all. But, luck was not on the man’s side that night, because the three minutes passed, and he remained within the shrine.

“After you,” Fandelmar said. “This was your idea, after all.”

Lascelmo strode for the door and pressed his ear to it, then shook his head. “Too thick to hear through.” With that option gone, Lascelmo simply hauled the door open.

The man was kneeling before the shrine, but not in prayer. In fact, he appeared to be cleaning the statue of Talos with a cloth. Based on the relative lack of dust on the statue versus the rest of the room, this was a common ritual. When he heard the door open, he dropped his rag and whirled around.

“What do _you_ want, elves?”

Lascelmo gave the Nord a bright smile. “You, actually. We have some questions we’re certain you can answer.”

“I’m not telling your kind anything.”

Lascelmo reached out and took him by the arm. “You always say that, and you’re always wrong. Fandelmar, get his other arm.”

Fandelmar stepped in just in time, because the Nord had tried to get in a good punch on his fellow soldier. It fell short when his elbow was grabbed, and the man was soon struggling between them as they made their way to the door.

“You know what I think?” Lascelmo asked as they all stepped back out into the city. “I think we just found the priest.”

“Good. That means we can leave soon.”

Fandelmar had his work cut out for him as they guided their struggling captive up the steps of the keep. His side was twinging, but he gritted his teeth and held on. Their prisoner stopped fighting and sagged against them as they made it into the keep proper. From there, it was a relatively short walk to the dungeon.

Once they had him in a cell, Lascelmo turned and beamed at Fandelmar. “We should wake the justiciars.”

“All three of them?”

“Rumion and Ondolemar, certainly. They’ll want to start interrogating right away.”

“Very well. I’ll find Rumion.”

“And I’ll go make Ondolemar’s week.” Lascelmo gave Fandelmar a slap on the back before heading off toward their rooms at a brisk pace. He followed, though more sedately.

Fandelmar realized that he didn't want to learn what sort of interrogator Rumion was, and was relieved to find that he wouldn't have to, at least not immediately. Rumion was pleased that there was now a prisoner in custody, but was unwilling to lose sleep by setting into him in the middle of the night.

“Lock him in a cell and let him stew for a bit. No food or water,” he added with a yawn, then rolled over to return to sleep.

When Fandelmar returned to the cell, he found Lascelmo looking sullen. “Let me guess. Ondolemar wanted to sleep in.”

“Rumion, too?”

Fandelmar nodded. “No food or water for the captive.”

“Ah, well. I suppose we can turn in and sleep the sleep of a job well done.” Lascelmo checked the lock on the gate, then paused a moment to study their prisoner, who was standing defiantly in the middle of the cell, scowling at them. His hood was now down, but Fandelmar didn’t notice anything exceptional about his features. He was just another blue-eyed, blond-haired Nord.

“Tomorrow should be interesting,” Lascelmo said as he moved for the door.

Fandelmar didn’t reply, but he did silently agree. He hoped that the prisoner _was_ the priest, and that he would talk quickly, because the sooner Fandelmar was gone from Markarth, the happier he would be.


	8. Juska

Three days after speaking with Fandelmar in the alley, Juska woke to find her mother in a frenzy. Pa had gone out in the night, very much against her wishes, to tend to the statue of Talos at the shrine. He’d been concerned because the Thalmor had spent all day nearby, and he had wanted to make sure they hadn’t desecrated the shrine.

Juska was the one who’d told him they’d been near there. Talos’ tits, why had she done that?

“He said he’d be gone half an hour,” Ma said, pacing back and forth. “But he’s not back yet.”

Sven and Juska frowned at one another, because they knew that there was only one option. He’d been found and taken in.

“Ma,” Sven said quietly. “We need to get out of town. You know what he said to do if he was caught.”

Their mother slumped into a chair and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t want to abandon him.”

“Think of the girls, Ma.”

Juska was chewing on her lip and trying not to burst into tears. She’d been trying for days to think of a way to warn Pa that the Thalmor were after him, a way that would also keep her from being in even more trouble. Vague worries that “they might know about you” had done little, but she hadn’t managed to come completely clean. And now he was caught, and her brother was trying to get them to abandon him.

She needed to fix this.

“I—” she started, then paused to take a deep breath. “I might have a way to get him back.”

Sven and Ma looked up at her sharply.

“What?” her mother asked.

“I… I know a Thalmor. He’s in the city.”

Her brother’s face went stony. “You… know a Thalmor. How, exactly?”

She told them some of the truth, haltingly, about being captured by the Thalmor while out hunting, and how Fandelmar had let her escape. She told them about finding him injured on the road, and stepping in to help. She did _not_ tell them about killing a Nord to save his life.

“He owes me,” she concluded. “He might help me get Pa out.”

Her mother shook her head several times, rising to her feet before addressing Juska with a shaky voice. “You knew they were in the area, all this time. You could have warned us. You stood in my house, and lied to my _face_ , and let us think you hadn’t wasted your time helping trash.”

“Ma, he cut me loose—”

“I want you out of my house, Juska.”

Juska looked to Sven, who just shook his head and stared at the floor.

“Ma, _please—”_

Her mother held up a hand to silence her.

“Fine.” She turned for her room to grab her pack. “But I’m getting Pa back.”

Sven followed her into their room. “Don’t go to this Thalmor, please. He’ll take you, too.”

Juska thought of the way Fandelmar had smiled at her in the alley, and how his lips had felt against her hand when he said goodbye on the road. “I don’t think he will.”

“I don’t want to lose you _and_ our father.”

She finished stuffing a few clothes and her favorite book in her pack, then turned and gave him a tight hug. “Get them out of here as soon as you can.” She paused, then unhooked her tent from the pack, offering it out to him. “For the girls.”

He breathed deeply as he took it from her. “Stubborn as Pa. Fine. You know where we’ll be.”

“Not that I’ll be welcome.”

“Ma will… she’ll… she’ll calm down. She just needs time.”

“Do _you_ think I fucked up?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever fucked up more.” He shook his head. “Juska, what were you _thinking_?”

“I wish I could tell you. I’ve been wondering that since I did it.”

Sven shook his head. “Well, hopefully you’ll learn your lesson, at least.”

“Juska!” her mother shouted from the other room. “Out!”

Her mother was standing in front of the girls’ room, keeping them from coming out, and refused to look at her as she moved for the door. And, as soon as she was out onto the street, she heard the dull thud of the door locking behind her. She took a moment to pray that they were at least preparing to get out of town, then headed for the main gate to find a place nearby to make camp. Ma was a problem for later; she needed to get her father back.

Juska spent the remainder of the day watching the road out of Markarth, hoping to see her family, and dreading seeing her father surrounded by golden elves. But neither came; both groups seemed set on remaining in the city, at least for the night. She tried not to think about what she’d do if her father had already been taken toward the Thalmor Embassy.

At dusk, she slipped back in and began wandering the town, hoping to come across Fandelmar. When that didn’t seem like it would happen, either, she settled at the base of the steps in front of the keep and just cried. The few townsfolk in the area paid her no mind, which made her feel invisible.

With no real place to go other than camp, Juska stayed on the steps and watched the moons rise over the city. The sight was oddly soothing. Her world might have been turned upside down today, but the rest of Skyrim was carrying on. And if it was, she would, too.

As the night began to deepen, Juska began to plan. She would just walk into the keep in the morning and tell the first Thalmor she saw that she had information for Fandelmar. Then, she would balk until she was able to talk to him alone, and—

The keep doors opened with a metallic clang, causing her to jolt out of her slumped sitting position. A person was walking out of them, but the shadows cast by the moons made it impossible to make out details. Gods, probably just a guard on rounds. She settled back down and focused back on her stupid fucking plan that was probably going to get her caught, only vaguely aware of the bootsteps of the person now passing by.

A soft, familiar voice drifted toward her. “Juska?”

She looked upward, startled again. Fandelmar was standing in front of her, out of his armor, and looking like the answer to all her prayers. If he weren’t a High Elf, she’d believe he’d been sent by Talos himself in her hour of need.

Juska stood, but it took her a moment to find her voice. “Hey.” It was still a little thick from crying, and she hated herself for sounding weak. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

Of course, Fandelmar _did_ notice. He stepped in close and frowned down at her. His hand reached for her chin and gently tilted her face upward for him to study in all its red, puffy glory.

“You’ve been crying. What’s the matter?”

She licked her lips and stared into his eyes for several seconds, then decided to trust him despite her family screaming in her head that she was seconds from being thrown in a cell. “I need to talk to you.”

“Of course.” He glanced around quickly, then slid his hand between her shoulder blades and guided her into the shadows beneath a nearby staircase. “What happened?”

Juska took a deep breath before barreling on. “My father didn’t come home last night. You didn’t happen to take anyone, did you?”

The darkness was probably doing a wonderful job of hiding them from view, because she could barely see him right in front of her. She heard a sharp intake of breath, however, and felt a knot develop in the pit of her stomach.

“Your _father_ was the— Juska, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have done anything differently?”

Silence stretched out between them. “I don’t know,” he said at last.

“Exactly.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” He sounded like he meant it, which only made the knot in her stomach worse.

She forced her voice to stay steady. “I need you to help me get him back.”

Fandelmar’s hand reached out through the gloom, and his long fingers gripped her shoulder firmly. “Ask me _anything else_ , Juska.”

“No. You owe me.”

His hand squeezed. “I saved you. You saved me. We are even.”

Juska grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his hand off her shoulder. “You loosened some ropes. I spent two weeks nursing your ass back to health. I killed a Nord for you. My family kicked me out for helping you. We are nowhere _near_ even.”

Fandelmar yanked his hand free of her grip, then ran his hands through his hair. There was another stretch of silence, longer this time, and Juska felt captivity looming heavy over her head.

Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. “What do you need me to do?”

“Get him out of the city. I’ll stage an attack, we’ll leave, and you’ll go back to being a Thalmor.”

“...’Stage an attack?'”

“I— It needs to look convincing, right? So you keep your job. And you’ve got a mage for a boss, so I thought— look, you’ll get healed fast. But I’d need to shoot you in the back of the shoulder, and probably choke you a little so it looks like you were overpowered—”

Fandelmar cut her off. “Your grand plan is to _shoot me_?”

She licked at her lips. “And strangle you. A little. So it bruises.”

“Do you just prefer me bloody, Juska?” His fingers ran through his hair again.

“Do you have any better ideas?”

He began pacing in the darkness beneath the stairs. One lap. Two. Three. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t.”

When it looked like he was going to resume pacing, she grabbed him by the wrist. Her nerves couldn’t handle his obvious discomfort. “I’m camped outside the city. I’ll be watching for you.”

Fandelmar sighed. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Please don’t turn me in.”

His fingers curled lightly against the skin of her wrist, soft enough to make her shiver. “I won’t.”

“Then I won’t, either.”

She released his hand, and he stepped back. “I was out for a walk. I shouldn’t be gone long, or my bunkmates might wonder.”

“...Thank you.”

“After this, we are even.” His voice was flat.

She nodded. “After this, I’ll be gone.”

The moonlight made his hair shine as he stepped out of the shadow of the stairs, and accentuated the way he was shaking his head. He turned away without another word and walked off into the city.

Juska waited until he was long gone before walking to her home. She spent several minutes knocking on the door, but nobody answered, which only added more twists to the knot in her stomach. Defeated, she turned for the gates and made her way to the pathetic camp she’d set up earlier.

Sleep was a stranger to her that night, so she was up and hidden atop a ridge with a view of the gate before the sun had returned to the sky. Her stomach churned around itself in worry as she sat and waited. She hadn’t had a chance to take food when she left the house yesterday, but the thought of eating only made her feel worse, so she choked down a few sips of water and kept watching.

An hour after sunrise, she saw her family exit the city, each laden with packs and looking as drained as she felt. When they were close to her hiding place, she dropped down into sight. Her mother pretended not to see her, and ordered the girls to keep walking, but Sven split away from the rest of them and walked to her side.

“I tried talking her down last night,” he said by way of greeting. “I’m sorry.”

Juska shook her head. “I’ll be sending Pa after all of you soon. Keep an eye out. He won’t have any supplies.”

Sven frowned and grabbed her hard by the shoulders. “Juska. Tell me you didn’t.” When she shrugged against his hands, he wrapped her in his arms. “Idiot.”

“Maybe this is why I saved the elf,” she said as she squeezed him back. “Be safe on the road, okay?”

“Come after us when you can. Ma can’t stay mad forever.”

She wasn’t sure that was true. But Juska nodded anyway, then gently shoved him toward the road. “Go.”

He frowned at her, but soon began loping after the rest of their family, though he looked back twice before they were out of sight. Juska returned to her hiding place and settled in to wait. Wait, and pray that all of this was going to work.

 

It was late afternoon before she spied the glint of golden armor at the gates. Juska’s heart caught in her throat as Fandelmar came into view, somehow managing to walk threateningly behind her father. She kept an eye out for other Thalmor, but he seemed to have come alone, just like she’d planned.

The ridge she was perched on caused the road to curve, so the far side of it was out of sight of the city gates. She forced herself to wait until they’d walked past that point before she nocked an arrow and aimed at Fandelmar’s now-exposed back.

“Don’t miss. Don’t miss,” she hissed, and took a deep breath to steady herself.

She fired, and the arrow went true, piercing Fandelmar’s armor with a dull thud. He gave a very real cry of pain and staggered sideways as she began scrambling down the ridge toward her father.

Her father either didn’t know, or didn’t care, that Fandelmar was helping them. As soon as Fandelmar had cried out, he’d turned, bringing his manacled hands sharply upward and hitting the elf soundly in the jaw. Fandelmar nearly fell backward onto the arrow, but managed to keep his feet.

“Pa, no!” she shouted.

At her voice, her father whirled toward her. “Juska?”

She ran hard for them, only stopping when she was in front of Fandelmar. “Where’s the key?”

“Belt.” His breathing was harsh. Talos’ tits, his pain was a familiar sound.  

Fandelmar sank to his knees, and Juska went with him, ignoring the confused questions of her father as she felt for, and then opened, the pouch at the elf’s waist. When she retrieved the key and freed her father, she had to stop him from going after Fandelmar again. “No, Pa. He’s helping.”

“ _What_?” her father asked.

“You ready?” she asked Fandelmar, wrapping her fingers around his neck.

He took a deep breath, then nodded.

When she began to squeeze, his eyes locked on hers. She kept his gaze as she dug both her thumbs into the flesh beneath his Adam’s apple.

“Juska, what in Talos’ name is going on?”

“Sec, Pa!”

Fandelmar’s face was going red. He tried to inhale, but her grip was too firm. A glint of panic developed in his eyes. She bit hard at her lip, but kept squeezing. This needed to look real, for his sake.

They kept staring at each other as her fingers refused to ease up, so she was able to see the precise moment when the last of the trust faded from his eyes. His gauntleted hands grabbed at her shoulders a few seconds later, then as instinct took over completely, went for her face. Juska took a solid hit to the jaw and nearly lost her grip.

“Get his hands!” she yelled at her father.

Pa sprang into action, grabbing at the discarded manacles before stepping in close and yanking Fandelmar’s hands out of range of Juska. The elf was strong, but her father had been a miner for years, so soon had Fandelmar’s hands pinned behind his back.

Juska heard the click of the manacles right as her hands started screaming in pain. She forced herself to maintain her grip and not look away from Fandelmar’s panicked face, no matter how much she wanted to. She felt sicker than ever, but refused to let up, and ignored the terrible noises he was making.

It felt like it had been ages by the time his green eyes rolled back into his head and his body grew heavy against hers. She immediately released her hold on his neck and eased him carefully sideways into the dirt by the side of the road.

He drew a ragged, shallow breath, and she blinked back tears as she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“I’m so sorry.”

Her father tugged hard on her shoulders, and she was vaguely aware that he was yet again demanding an explanation. Juska staggered to her feet and grabbed him by the hand, then half-dragged him up the ridge and into the wilderness.


	9. Fandelmar

When Fandelmar came to, he was in the dirt by the side of the road, but he wasn’t alone. His compatriots had found him and were tending to his wounds, though with the bedside manner of angry hagravens. He told them a version what happened as they silently catalogued his injuries and prepared to fix them all. The priest had said there was an enclave of Talos worshippers hiding out in a shack just outside of town. He’d agreed to take Fandelmar to them in exchange for leniency. The arrow to the back had come almost as soon as he was outside the gates with the man.

“Tell me, _why_ did you fall for that?” Rumion snapped the arrow without warning, causing him to hiss.

“Humans don’t tend to think ahead.” Fandelmar coughed to try to clear his throat, but it did little for his voice, or the pain of speaking. “He was stupid enough to enter the shrine we’d spent all day guarding, wasn’t he? I had no reason to think he’d have come up with a plan in case he was captured.”

“Why did you go without us?” Lascelmo was busily unstrapping Fandelmar’s cuirass so they could get at the wound.

“As embarrassing as it is to admit? You caught the priest. I wanted to bring someone in, as well.”

“And so instead of outdoing me, you undid all my good work.” Lascelmo pulled Fandelmar’s armor off, and Rumion stepped back in close. Fandelmar felt the cold press of a knife against his back, then searing pain as his superior officer began to cut the arrow from his shoulder.

Fandelmar groaned and tried not to clench his jaw. They could have at least given him something to bite. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Rumion replied, yanking the arrow free, then flooding him with healing magic so quickly that it left Fandelmar dizzy. He felt the arrow wound knit closed, and the bruising at his neck and jaw faded from pain into a mild tingling sensation.

“Thank you.” Fandelmar rose and began replacing his bloody cuirass. “The good news is, they can’t have gone far, and when we capture them, we will have twice the people to question.” He said these words with confidence, because he knew that Juska would have left no trail during her escape. She’d given them nothing to work with the night he let her go, after all.

“Well, let’s fix this mess,” Rumion said with a sigh. “If this goes right, I won’t be reporting you for incompetence.”

He gritted his teeth at that, but said nothing. Between Juska’s initial escape and her father’s just now, it was likely that Fandelmar was going to have a reputation for being worthless with captives for a good, long while. He suspected that this should make him feel bitter, because he had literally just been shot, then strangled half to death, by the woman he’d been helping.

But she hadn’t killed him, which was something.

Now Fandelmar just needed to play the sincere idiot, making up for his mistakes, and this would all blow over. He checked the position of the sun. “We have a few hours until dark. They can’t have gone far.”

“Did you get a good look at the one who shot you?” Lascelmo asked.

“If I had, I’d have been shot in the front.”

His fellow soldier chuckled. “Fair point.”

The two of them fanned out to begin looking for tracks. Fandelmar took the side of the road away from the ridge, and so of course saw no sign of them, but after a few minutes he heard Lascelmo call, “I found something!”

The soil of the ridge had been torn, leaving a rut that pointed directly up its side, suggesting that two people had scrambled up it in a rush. Fandelmar’s heart sank when he saw this, but he hoped that once they were on flat ground, the tracks would stop.

They did, thankfully, but when they fanned out and began covering the ground above the ridge, Rumion located the remains of a small campfire. When they regrouped to search it, Lascelmo found a clear boot print pointing west, away from the city. “Got them!”

Fandelmar forced himself to look relieved even though what he felt was dread. _Juska, what were you doing? You’re a better woodsman than this!_

The going wasn’t easy. It took a long time to get from sign to sign. A scrap of fur caught on a branch, a small slide of rocks down a hill, and more boot prints slowly led them away from the city, and out into the wilderness. Fandelmar’s worry increased with each new find, but his compatriots were nearly giddy.

“Perhaps this will work out in your favor, after all.” Lascelmo grinned.

“Except that it is getting dark, and soon we won’t be able to follow them,” Rumion added.

“I have an idea,” Lascelmo replied. “Let’s find the high ground and wait for night.”

Fandelmar knew that he was hoping for a campfire, but he also knew Juska. She was a smart girl, and she wouldn’t have built something that conspicuous so soon after escaping with her father, especially in such a sparsely wooded area. Even still, he dutifully trudged up the nearest hill with his companions.

It was Rumion who saw the glimmer of firelight. It was some ways off, but it was clear. Fandelmar nearly sighed in relief, because during their time together out in the woods, Juska had never built a fire that size.

“Careful. We may be about to disturb the evening of some poor hunter,” Fandelmar told them as they began to descend.

“If it is a hunter, hopefully he has seen them,” Rumion said.

Silence fell on the party as they made the trek toward the fire. It was difficult to be quiet in their armor, but Rumion corrected that problem with a muffle spell. This made them able to travel faster and with a bit less care, so they made it to the camp by moonrise.

They found it empty. There was the fire, and a bedroll nearby, but of its inhabitants there was no sign. Rumion halted his spell, and the three of them stood in the firelight, looking around blankly.

Lascelmo was the first to understand. “This is either a decoy, or a _trap_.”

_Good girl_.

Rumion made a frustrated noise and went to inspect the bedroll. When nothing there made itself apparent, he cast a spell on himself and looked around. Then, his head tilted, and he looked up into the trees.

“There you are,” he said, and used another spell to bring Juska crashing down to the ground.

Fandelmar was frozen to the spot, but Lascelmo was quick, and had Juska by the arms before she could regain her feet. He hauled her upward, then drove one gauntleted fist deep into her stomach, causing her to retch and stagger. When Lascelmo released her, she slumped back to her knees.

Rumion took a step back and allowed his soldier to ask the questions.

“Where is the priest?” Lascelmo’s voice was far too pleasant for the situation.

Juska locked eyes with Lascelmo. “What priest?” she wheezed.

One gauntleted hand seized her by the hair, and the other backhanded her across the face with a loud crack. “Does that jog your memory, human?”

Blood began to trickle from between Juska’s lips, but she didn’t reply.  

Lascelmo paused and sank onto his haunches, grabbing her jaw in his hand. “Wait a moment. I _recognize_ you.”

At those words, Fandelmar’s heart caught in his throat. Juska spit a tooth at Lascelmo’s face, and he hit her again. As she slumped forward onto her hands, blood pouring down her chin, Lascelmo rose and drew his sword, then turned on Fandelmar.

“Don’t _you_ recognize her?” he asked with a smile.

Rumion took a step toward them both. “Lascelmo, what are you doing?”

“This girl.” He gestured with his blade toward Juska. “This is Fandelmar’s little admirer! The one who, if I remember correctly, was so keen to _talk_.”

Fandelmar cocked his head and looked over at Juska. “She is?”

Rumion frowned. “You saw them speaking in Markarth?” He turned toward Fandelmar. “Explain yourself.”

Lascelmo cut in. “I think they worked together to set the priest loose.”

Fandelmar scoffed. “More likely she was trying to use me for information. I didn’t tell her a thing.”

Lascelmo considered him for a long moment before replying. “Hm. Perhaps. Either way, mind if I get to work on her, Rumion?”

Fandelmar turned to their leader. “We should bring her back to the city.”

“Yes, we should, but the sooner we get her talking, the better chance we’ll have of recapturing the priest you ‘lost’ me.”

Rumion looked between the two of them, then silently indicated that the other mer should proceed.

So,” Lascelmo said as he kneeled in front of her again, “as I was saying, where is the priest?”

Juska focused on Lascelmo and gave him the cold stare that Fandelmar had grown used to over their first few nights with Osric and Nethraneron.

“Don’t mistake my calm for a lack of follow-through, girl. I’m simply deciding what to break first.” Lascelmo’s fingers ran down the side of her jaw. “Your pretty face? Your fingers? You seem handy with a bow, so that might really set you back.”

Juska remained silent.

“Well, we do need you to be able to talk. So!” Lascelmo reached for her right hand, grabbing it in his, and then began pulling her index finger to one side. Juska gritted her teeth so hard that more blood oozed from between her lips, but didn’t make a sound until after the snap of bone sounded throughout the camp. At that, she screamed, and her eyes cut to Fandelmar’s.

_Gods_. He couldn’t do this.

Fandelmar strode forward, seized Lascelmo by the back of his chestplate, and tossed him onto his side. Rumion yelled and began to cast a spell, but Juska went for him and struck him in the throat with her elbow. When he sank to the ground, wheezing, she brought her fists crashing down on the back of his head with a pained shriek. Rumion went limp, and they both turned their attention on the other mer, who was picking himself up off the ground.

To his surprise, Lascelmo began to laugh. “I knew it. You’re that easy? You’ve got it bad, Fandelmar.” He rose, and took his blade back into his hands. “She doesn’t seem worth becoming a traitor to your own kind, but what do I know? I haven’t fucked her yet.”

Disgusting mer. Fandelmar felt his lip curl as he drew his sword and fell into a defensive position. Just in time, too. Lascelmo was unfortunately quick.

“I’m going to bring you in, you know,” Lascelmo continued. “Put you in a cell right next to hers so you can watch what we do to get her to talk. Rumion loves working with an audience.”

He was circling, which forced Fandelmar to as well in order to keep up his defenses.

“Once we’re well and done with her, then we’ll start on you! I have so many questions. How long have you been a traitor? Have you and the girl been working together from the start? Who _really_ killed your old companions?”

Lascelmo was trying to upset him, but that knowledge did nothing to keep it from working. The other elf feinted, and Fandelmar’s blade hand distractedly blocked a blow that never came, leaving him open for the next thrust. Lascelmo’s sword buried into Fandelmar's shoulder before he could twist completely away, briefly making his vision go white.

“We’ll need to know these things before we decide just what to do with you.”

Lascelmo yanked his blade free, making Fandelmar howl in pain, and resumed circling.

“Do you have family? I hope not. Family members of Thalmor traitors don’t tend to live long.”

Fandelmar struggled to keep his sword level through the pain in his shoulder, and kept circling, waiting for Lascelmo to strike again.

“I hope she was worth ruining your life over, Fandelmar. If _we_ don’t kill you, you’ve got a couple hundred years in a dungeon just waiting to try its best.”

Lascelmo’s back was now to Juska, who struggled to her feet and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and going deadweight. He yelled at the distraction, then screamed as Fandelmar took the opening and sank his blade deep into Lascelmo’s stomach.

It wasn’t until Lascelmo went down that Fandelmar realized what he had done. He released his hold on his sword and stood there, staring down at his fellow Thalmor, too stunned to move. He was still staring when Juska stepped in behind Lascelmo and slit his throat with a curse.

_Oh, gods_. Fandelmar fell to his knees, but Juska was beside him almost instantly, forcing his fallen sword back into his hand.

“Get up. We need to go.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment, but when she grabbed him under the arms and pulled, he rose on shaking legs. Juska was already at her pack, rummaging around.

“Armor off.”

“...What?”

She moved to his side, holding a dress, and smacked him across the cheek with her good hand. “ _Move,_ Fandelmar! All but the boots.”

Her actually calling him by name brought him partially to his senses. He sheathed his dripping blade and followed her directions mechanically, still staring at Lascelmo. As he dropped his armor, piece by piece, onto the ground, Juska began tearing strips off the hem of the dress. Once he was down to plainclothes, she stepped in close and began bandaging his shoulder over his ruined shirt. “We can’t have you bleeding and leaving signs, and we _definitely_ can’t have you in that armor anymore.”

“‘We?’”

“You can’t stay here.” She tied off the bandage with her functional fingers and looked up at him. “You’ll be fucked if you do.”

Gods, she was right. There would be no patiently waiting this one out. Fandelmar looked around the camp again while Juska shouldered her pack. When he didn’t start moving, she grabbed him by the hand, and began to pull him away from the fire and into the darkness beyond.


	10. Juska

Juska kept them moving because she didn’t know what else to do. When they left her decoy camp, she got them to the water, and they spent the next several hours wading north in silence, too miserable and cold to manage speech. They reached Karthwasten in the early hours of the morning, which gave her the chance to steal them a boat. With her broken finger and Fandelmar’s stabbed shoulder, it was difficult to row, so she mostly let it drift and occasionally directed it with an oar when it came close to rocks or the bank.

Fandelmar lounged in the back of the boat, looking tired and bloody in the moonlight. His eyes were closed, but his breathing sounded wakeful. She wanted to say something, but nothing good came to mind. _Hey, sorry you just got yourself labeled a traitor for helping me. Really appreciate it?_ No. Silence was much, much better than letting herself say something dumb. Her mouth ached from getting hit, anyway. Talking would probably make it hurt worse.

To her surprise, it was Fandelmar who spoke first. He’d opened his eyes and was watching the setting moons over the mountains when he shifted his gaze her way.

“Why aren’t you with your father?” His voice was so soft that it was hard for her to make out the words over the sound of the water around them.

“I— he asked me to buy my family time to escape, so I made a false trail for you, uh, for them to follow.” She didn’t add that her father had basically accused her of being in league with the Thalmor, and had ordered her to do it to ‘prove she was still his daughter.’

What was she supposed to have done, left him in jail?

“I wondered why we were able to follow you.” She thought she could make out the hint of a smile in the gloom. “When you escaped the first time, you were untrackable.”

“Yeah. Getting caught by your boss wasn’t exactly part of the plan, though.”

His eyes closed again. “I think it is safe to say that none of that went according to plan for any of us.”

Guilt tore through her again, and she returned her attention to steering the boat as it drifted. Part of her was glad for the silence; talking, even that briefly, had definitely made her mouth hurt worse.

When the sun rose, she deemed it safe to get back on solid ground. If the Thalmor in Markarth decided to follow them, they would likely be able to guess which direction they’d gone by water, but it would be nearly impossible for them to find where they’d made land. She left the boat in the water and let it continue drifting in the hopes that it would lead them off the trail.

Between the mountains and the Forsworn lurking in the hills, she had very few options on where to lead them. They stayed close to the water and kept their eyes on the rocks surrounding them, but no attacks came.

It was late afternoon by the time she found a hill gentle enough for them to climb to get to the plains of central Skyrim. Fandelmar was beginning to look pale, and her finger was throbbing in time with her bootsteps.

Eventually, he spoke again. “Please, Juska. I must rest.”

“Okay.” She looked around and spied a small ridge up ahead. “We can use that for shelter.”

When they reached their goal, Fandelmar put his back to a rock and collapsed to the ground with a groan, clutching at his shoulder. Juska fell to her knees beside him and began unwinding the makeshift bandage she’d applied to staunch the bleeding. His shirt peeled away viscously from his skin because of all the dried blood, and taking it off opened his wound again.

Seeing him shirtless and bloody felt sadly familiar. Juska rested her good hand on his undamaged shoulder as she spoke to him. “I’ve got healing supplies again. I can patch you up, but you’ve got to help me get fixed up first.”

He looked at her curiously, and she indicated her broken finger. “I’m… not sure I can set this myself.” In fact, the thought of doing it made her want to vomit. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

Fandelmar nodded, and she opened her pack to get out the dress she’d sacrificed for bandage material. “Rip more strips off that.”

He obeyed, though he hissed as the action tweaked his shoulder. Juska had him stop the instant he’d pulled enough off.

“Okay.” She held up her hand. “I need you to pull my finger back the right way until you hear a pop. He dislocated it at the bottom knuckle.”

Fandelmar looked as ill as she felt, but he nodded and took her finger in hand. Juska turned her head away and took a deep breath.

“On three,” he warned her, and she forced herself to keep breathing as he counted. He pulled sharply on two, just like Ma would have; she swore being unprepared made the pain less strong. There was a loud pop as the joint resettled, and Juska doubled over, clutching her wrist.

“Gods fucking in Oblivion!” she shouted, blinking back tears. “Fucking _fuck_!”

Fandelmar’s hand ran soothingly along her back until she straightened again.

“Okay,” she said shakily. “Now wrap it to my middle finger so it can’t bend.”

Juska wiped at her eyes with her good hand as he finished bandaging her fingers together. Her finger and face were now throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

“Your turn. Tear me off a few more bandages.” She fumbled for her needle and horsehair in the mess of her pack, cursing silently at the fact that she hadn’t had a chance to put any of her things away properly when she’d left.

Beside her, the sound of cloth ripping rhythmically told her that she was being obeyed.

“You know, I liked this dress,” Fandelmar murmured, and Juska nearly laughed.

“I did, too.”

She stared down at the needle in her hand and pursed her lips. They couldn’t risk a fire right now, so she had no way to clean it. But he needed his shoulder closed up. She would just have to rely on the plants she had with her to keep it from festering.

Wait. Fandelmar knew magic. Gods, she’d nearly forgotten.

“Make a flame,” she told him. When he held out his hand and obeyed, she passed the needle through it.

It took a bit longer to thread the needle than usual, which Fandelmar didn’t seem to mind. Once she was ready to begin stitching, she told him to look away, but he just shook his head.

“Your funeral,” she muttered, and plunged the needle into his flesh.

This wound was smaller and shallower than the one that had marred his side, which was good, because her finger made closing it hard. Fandelmar’s jaw was clenched the entire time the needle was working in and out of his skin, but other than that and the occasional grunt, he gave no sign of pain. Once it was done, she ground some of the herbs her mother had given her into a paste and applied it to the skin around the wound, then bandaged it all up.

“There,” she said, settling back onto her heels. “All fixed.”

To her surprise, he reached out and cupped her face, opposite to the side the Thalmor had hit with his gauntlets on. There was dried blood on his knuckles and fingers, which made her intensely aware of how she must look; she could tell by the tightness of her skin and the blood on her furs that most of her lips and jaw were coated. She looked him in the eyes, expecting revulsion at the mess, but saw only concern.

“Can anything be done for your mouth?”

“I should have rinsed it back at the water,” she admitted. “But no. The tooth’s gone. I’ll just have to chew carefully until the gum heals.” Her tongue slid reflexively into the spot where her rightmost incisor had been this time yesterday, and she hissed in pain. Everything tasted like blood.

Fandelmar shook his head and ran his thumb along her jaw. “I’m so sorry, Juska.”

“Pretty sure that’s what I’m supposed to be saying to you.”

“I remember hitting you in the face, as well,” he said as he lowered his hand.

“You thought I was killing you. It doesn’t count.”

He gave a harsh laugh and settled down onto the ground, carefully arranging himself so that his shoulder wouldn’t be bearing weight. “You were simply committed to realism.”

“For all the good it did.” Juska ripped the sleeve from her dress and wetted it with her water skin before taking his bloody hand in hers and beginning to wipe it clean. He watched her intently, but made no move to pull away.

“I’ll get us to some water tomorrow so we can tidy up. Running around bloody is just going to make us memorable.”

When she was done cleaning the blood from his skin, he gripped her gently by the wrist of her uninjured hand and pulled her toward him. Her heart started pounding, but she let him guide her onto her side facing him without protest. When he simply draped his arm over her waist and closed his eyes, she pressed her face to his collarbone and took a deep breath. He smelled like dirt and blood, which also felt familiar.

Lying like this with him after hours of running was oddly soothing, and soon her heart had slowed and her eyes had closed. The only sound was the wind and Fandelmar’s breathing, steady and calm. Most of her wanted to drift off, especially considering how long she had been awake. She forced herself to remain alert, however, because of the small voice in her head that was yelling something about proving her family right.

“It’s going to be cold tonight,” she warned him. “I don’t have the tent anymore.”

Fandelmar responded by pulling her closer to him and resting his chin on the top of her head. “I’ll manage, Juska.”

A few more minutes passed, and she once again felt the urge to sleep. Again, she fought it by speaking, this time about what he had said to the Thalmor when they were caught. “I wasn’t using you.”

This time, he ran a hand over her hair. “Yes, you were.”

She gave in and slid her arm over his waist. “I’m sorry.”

Juska felt his voice in his chest as he responded. “I would have done the same for my family.”

Soon after, Fandelmar’s breathing deepened into the cadence of sleep. The next time she felt herself drifting, she didn’t bother fighting it.

 

****

The next two days were a struggle. Despite Fandelmar’s assurance that he would manage fine at night, she woke several times to him shivering violently against her. Body heat could only do so much against the chill of the ground. And she wasn’t without problems of her own: because of her finger, she couldn’t hunt, which left them both cold _and_ hungry.

Juska solved the chill by risking fires again at night. Fandelmar slept with his back to the blaze and with her against his chest, and the shivering lessened. For the hunger, her solution was less elegant: when they finally passed a farm, she had them help themselves to the crops.

She kept them walking across the plains, and tried to plan their next move. Fandelmar, for his part, followed her like a shadow, and hardly spoke. Since she rarely felt like talking, either, she did little to discourage this.

On the third night, they’d made it to a stand of trees, and Juska was able to pile a thick layer of leaves against a fallen log to protect them from the wind and the cold ground. She expected Fandelmar to complain about getting dirty, but he just sank into the makeshift bed after their meager dinner and held out an arm. When she settled in next to him, he pulled her back close to his chest and slipped his arm over her waist. She pet softly at his forearm and stared at the fire.

“Where are we going?” he asked eventually, causing his breath to tickle against her ear.

“Windhelm, I think.”

He went tense against her back. “...Windhelm.”

“Yeah.” She kept petting at his arm.

“There is no love lost for Altmer there, I think.”

She tried to keep her voice from sounding miserable. “I know, but that’s why there won’t be Thalmor, either.”

Fandelmar took a deep breath before replying. “I will prepare myself for the cold, then.”

“We’ll have to get you something warmer. I know a hunting lodge near here that we might be able to raid for supplies.”

There was a pause before he spoke again. “What about your family?”

Juska swallowed hard. “It’s not safe for me to be near them. In case we’re being followed.”

“Right.” His arm tightened around her waist.

She took his hand in her good one and squeezed it lightly. “Go to sleep. You need to heal.”

He nose-bumped her hair. “We both need to heal.”

At this, she relaxed against him and closed her eyes, letting his warmth and the crackle of the fire lull her away from her injuries, and the voices of her family still screaming ‘traitor’ in her head.


	11. Fandelmar

Fandelmar hadn’t felt this lost since the death of his family. He wasn’t sure what to do, other than slink after the reason his world had been turned upside down. Juska was taking them to Windhelm, which sounded about as appealing as dying in a snowbank, but there was no real alternative. If he set off on his own, where would he go that the Thalmor couldn’t find him?

No. Hiding behind Ulfric’s Stormcloaks was his best option right now. And if he was completely honest, he had no desire to be on his own in an unfamiliar country. So he held Juska at night, and tried not to think about anything other than the cold which now wove its way through everything.

In fact, Fandelmar was so concerned with his own misery as they traveled that he didn’t even notice that Juska was faring little better. Five nights into their flight from Markarth, he woke to the sound of her softly sobbing, and immediately felt like the worst person in the world.

“Juska?” He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder.

She sniffled, but didn’t reply.

“Juska.” He ran his hand down her back. “What’s the matter?”

At this, she rolled over, and he was struck with the familiar sight of her red face and puffy eyes. He felt a pang of guilt, as well as the faintest ripple of anger. This face had been the precursor to several of his recent bad decisions.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to see my family again.” Her voice was thick and choked.

The anger Fandelmar was feeling faded as quickly as it had come. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “That can’t be true. It might take some time, but the Thalmor will stop searching for them, and for you.” They would be much more interested in making an example of their traitor, after all.

“It’s not that,” she managed. Her eyes met his, and she studied him for several seconds before replying. “They… really hate High Elves. Ma kicked me out when she learned I’d helped you.”

“I… do remember you mentioning that. But we saved your father.

Juska’s voice hitched again. “Yeah, but Pa basically told me if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have been caught at all. He’s mad, too.”

Fandelmar remembered how hard the priest had hit him in the face. He could certainly see that man holding a grudge. “So that is why you aren’t with them.”

“Yeah.” She wiped at her face. “And that’s not even… I’m mostly upset that I didn’t get to say goodbye to my little sisters. Ma wouldn’t let me.”

He pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Sisters?”

“Triplets. My brother and I are pretty sure they were a mistake, because they’re ten years younger than me.”

“That is some mistake.”

Juska laughed a little at that, and he smiled at her.

“I help feed them. I taught them how to read. I’m worried about how they’ll do without me.”

Fandelmar thought for a moment. “I… know how you feel,” he admitted. “I likely won’t ever be able to speak to my grandfather again.”

“Gods, Fandelmar, I didn’t even think of that.” Her hand eased over his hip to rest against his back.

She’d said his name again. He closed his eyes. “He is very old. I support him, because he can’t work. Half my pay goes to— went to him.”

“Fuck. Maybe when we get to Windhelm, you can….”

“It wouldn’t be safe to contact him. Better he believe I really am a traitor. He is more likely to get aid from the sympathetic that way.”

Juska stopped crying completely at this. “At least my family has my gran. He’s really all alone?”

“He is now.”

She went quiet. Fandelmar opened his eyes to find her watching him intently. “I am so sorry,” she said at last.

For some reason, this admission made his anger return. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to fight against it, and so was utterly unprepared when she pressed her lips to his. He made a surprised noise and pulled away, opening his eyes in time to see her bury her face in her hands.

“Oh gods. Oh fuck.” Her voice was muffled. “I shouldn’t have done that. I am so sorry.”

He licked his lips. “Juska, we are hardly in the frame of mind to—”

“I know! Fuck. Now my face hurts.”

Fandelmar reached for her shoulder, but it was her turn to pull away. She met his eyes, and he saw anger in them.

“You know what? No. What’s with all the cuddling if you’re not—?” Juska shoved at his shoulder, and he hissed as her palm pressed into his wound. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t—” He heard how loud his voice was, and forced himself to breathe. “I don’t….” Another breath. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

He risked meeting her eyes, and found she was nodding. “Yeah. Neither do I.”

After a moment of mutual staring, Fandelmar held his arm open. Juska sighed, but settled down and pressed her back in close to him. Silence stretched out for several minutes, and he was just about to let sleep come for him again when Juska spoke once more.

“Can… Can I ask what happened to your family?”

Fandelmar was quiet for a long time as he debated how to reply. Finally, he decided on the truth. “My town was overrun by daedra.”

“ _What?_ How?”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he worked out the most succinct way to explain. “There was a mage who lived nearby. He was playing around with Conjuration magic and managed to open a portal to Oblivion. Most of the town didn’t survive.”

Juska took his hand. “How did you…?”

“I wasn’t even there. I’d left the night before to deliver a cart of goods to a merchant in a bigger town. When I came back, my house was in ruins, and I’d lost my parents, my sister, and my wife.”

“Your wife?” Her voice was very quiet.

“Yes. Arianwe.” Fandelmar paused. “I haven’t spoken her name in a very long time.”

“How long ago did this happen?”

He took a deep breath and did the math. “Almost ninety years. I joined the Thalmor right after. At the time, they had a reputation for fighting daedra because they were insisting they stopped the Oblivion Crisis.”

Juska snorted. “Even I know that was Martin Septim.”

“Yes, but you are a heretic.” He nose-bumped the back of her head, and she giggled.

“Fandelmar… how old are you?”

He sighed. “I am one hundred and nineteen years old, Juska.”

“Well, _fuck_.”

Fandelmar had expected that reaction, so all he did was chuckle. When she rolled over and started inspecting him critically, he laughed harder.

“ _What_?”

“This is why I never tell humans my age. You always stare at me afterward, trying to see it.”

She pursed her lips. “You are older than my _gran_. I’m allowed to be surprised.”

He grinned at her. “But I look better, right?”

“No.” Juska scowled at him. “You’re not allowed to turn down a kiss and then _flirt_ with me.”

Fandelmar let his smile fade, though he still felt oddly merry. “I apologize, Juska.”

She closed her eyes and nestled up against his collarbone. “Go to sleep, old man.”

He curled his arm around her and did his best to obey.

 

****

The next morning saw them within sight of Whiterun. Juska had considered guiding them by a nearby hunting lodge to commandeer more supplies, but she seemed too guilty about stealing from the farm to actually go through with it. Instead, she forced her mangled hand to work enough to hunt one of the elk that called the plains home. It took two tries and five shots, but she managed to bring one down.

“I’m going to head into town and barter for some things,” she said.

“Juska, you can’t carry this yourself.”

She knelt down and pulled a knife out of her pack. “I’ll dress it and take it in stages. Quarters should be manageable. I think you should stay out here,” she added as she began to cut. “Just in case. A High Elf is going to be more memorable here than a Nord.”

Fandelmar nodded. “Very well. Could you leave your soap? I’ll wash my shirt in the stream.”

“Sure. Grab it out of my pack.”

Since her hands were growing bloodier by the second, he obeyed. “Anything you need cleaned?”

Juska paused and looked up at him. “...Yeah, actually. I’d like to get the blood off my chestpiece.” She glanced down at her hands and frowned. “Fuck.”

He walked to her, ignoring the stench of animal blood and entrails. “Allow me.”

She rose to her feet, and he removed the fur with very little trouble, considering how much time he’d spent in it himself. Thankfully, it seemed to have protected her tunic from her blood very nicely.

“Try not to get the skin part wet, okay? Just brush the blood out of the fur if you can.” She sank down onto her heels and got back to work with the elk.

He folded it over his arm. “I will do my best.”

Juska left a few minutes later with her first portion of elk, and Fandelmar meandered to the nearby stream to get to work on their clothes. He was almost certain that his shirt was a lost cause, but he wanted to wear something that wasn’t stiff with his own blood. His shoulder made scrubbing with any sort of force difficult, but he was able to at least wash the blood out and set the shirt to dry on a nearby rock. It was stained, but it was clean.

The armor he was more careful with, and he was still working on some of the blood when she returned, holding a battered old pack. “I got you this. It’s third-hand, but it’ll give you something to carry your shit in.”

He shook his hands dry and reached out to take it from her. The leather was worn and scraped in places, but the stitching was still sturdy. It felt partially full to his hands, so he opened the top. Inside, he found a new, green shirt and a pair of leather boots that appeared to be lined with fur.

“I thought those might be more comfortable than your armor.” She pointed down at his feet.

“You are likely correct.” He pulled the shirt on, then brought the boots out and inspected them. “They are the right size. Thank you.”

Juska stared at him for a moment. “Gods. The shirt makes your eyes greener. There’s a cloak in there, too,” she added. “I got it from a Breton, so it might be a little short, but it will help keep you warm.”

He nodded. “Did you get anything for yourself?”

“That’s what this trip is for.” She bent down and began wrapping the next bit of elk before lifting it with a grunt. “Be back in a bit.”

“Don’t hurt your finger.”

“Too late,” she called back over her shoulder.

Fandelmar shook his head and resumed his work on her fur.

This trip seemed to take a bit longer. When she returned, he had progressed from cleaning their clothes to cleaning himself, and was sitting damply on a rock waiting for his hair to dry.

“You’re tempting fate,” she scolded as she sat down beside him.

“What did you get?”

“Food, mostly. So we can eat something a bit more varied than elk as we travel.”

He smiled at her. “That will be appreciated.”

“I thought so. I also managed to get new bracers. My boots are beat to shit, but the armorer didn’t have any in my size.”

“We could go by the hunter’s lodge after all.”

Juska sighed and shook her head. “No. Stealing doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Your feet getting frostbitten doesn’t sit well with _me_.”

“No, the soles are just a little worn down. I might slip some in the snow, but I won’t get _frostbitten_. I’m a Nord.”

“Are you, now?” He tilted his head and inspected her. “I hadn’t noticed.”

She smacked his knee. “Ass.” He grinned at her, and she rose again. “One more trip.”

“What’s the plan for this one?”

“Something to keep us out of the dirt, and maybe pocket money.”

“That will be much appreciated, as well.”

Now that he wasn’t busy cleaning, he was able to notice just how strong Juska seemed to be. She lifted what had to be one hundred pounds of wrapped meat to her shoulder with very little trouble before setting off down the road with an easy stride. He supposed this really shouldn’t surprise him, given her profession… and with how easily she had strangled him and knocked Rumion unconscious. Still, the average Altmer would be having much more trouble than she was.

Fandelmar spent her last trip into town resting on a rock and listening to the noise of the stream at his feet. Because of this, he was able to notice quickly when the sounds of nature around him shifted. First, a herd of deer startled, running hard away from the city toward the east. Then, the birdsong died.

He had risen and was looking about warily when Juska came back down the path.

“I got us two cured hides—” she started, and he held up a hand to cut her off. “What?” she said softly as she came to a stop beside him.

“Something is wrong.”

That was when they both heard the beating of huge, heavy wings. Fandelmar looked up and felt his jaw drop as what was circling over a nearby watchtower registered in his mind.

“Juska… that is a _dragon_.”

She quickly knelt and wrapped up the rest of the meat before grabbing him by the shoulder. “No, what that is is our cue to _get the fuck out of here_.”

Fandelmar nodded, and they immediately turned for the east, moving fast. As they passed the city, a throng of guardsmen poured out and went in the direction of the dragon. Good. With a distraction like that, it was unlikely to come for two random travelers.

The thing set the plain on fire with its breath, but Juska got them over the water and turned north into the trees before the extent of the damage to Whiterun became clear.

They only stopped walking when it was too dark to see clearly. Fandelmar collapsed onto the ground, setting his pack aside, and took a deep breath to settle himself.

“Nobody told the Thalmor that there were dragons in Skyrim.” At least not the ones at his pay level, though he vaguely remembered Elenwen saying something about ‘strange news.’

“Nobody told the Nords, either. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“This should make the rest of the trip interesting.”

“I hope not.” She nudged him with a boot as she walked by. “Look for wood. I’ll get a fire pit going.”

He grunted to his feet and began searching the ground. “You seem strangely cavelier about this dragon.”

“No,” she said. “I’m resigned. At this point I figure it’s just our luck.”

Fandelmar had to admit that was fair. He gathered as big an armload of dry branches as his shoulder would allow from the nearby trees, then walked back to the pit she’d made. She immediately started arranging branches, and after a bit of his magic, they had a fire going. Much to the pleasure of his growling stomach, she put some elk on to roast. Then, she started arranging the furs she’d bartered as protection against the ground.

He watched her place them side by side near the fire with a small frown. “We can sleep separately again, if you prefer.”

Juska just shook her head as she sat down on one of the furs. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

No, he supposed she wouldn’t, considering the kiss. He settled down beside her and began switching from his Thalmor sabatons into the boots she’d gotten him earlier that day. Immediately, he felt warmer.

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Your feet stink.”

Fandelmar snorted and chucked the sabatons away from them one by one. “Flatterer.”

They had gotten in the habit over the last few days of always sitting or lying so that her sore jaw and his wounded shoulder weren’t next to one another. When he noticed that they had done this yet again, he chuckled softly and draped an arm over her shoulder, pulling her against him. She leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder, and they watched their dinner cook for a while.

“It’s ready,” she said at last, and sat upright again so that she could serve them. Once Fandelmar had the plate in his hands, it took all he had not to devour his meal like a wild man. He managed not to, but part of him wondered the entire time why he was even bothering. Who cared about manners in the wilderness?

Juska set her plate aside first and slumped over onto the furs with a content noise. Once Fandelmar had finished, as well, he did the same, though he did his best to give her space, should she want it. She didn’t seem to, because once he was settled, she pressed in against his back and slipped her arm over him. He sighed and tucked her arm under his, quietly thankful for the comfort.

Neither of them spoke again until sleep took them. Fandelmar’s dreams were full of dragons and Thalmor, but he wasn’t alone when he woke. For that, he was grateful.


	12. Juska

Juska was lying awake next to Fandelmar, deep in thought. _Yeah, kiss the hundred-year-old widower, Juska. Great idea_. Never mind that she hadn’t known he was that old, or that _married_ , when she’d done it. Actually, that made it worse. She hardly knew anything about Fandelmar, and yet she had still put her stupid face on his face.

She was almost grateful that he’d shut her down. Almost. Most of her wished he weren’t such a gentleman, because if he hadn’t been, she wouldn’t feel quite so humiliated now.

Then again. _One hundred nineteen_? She’d thought maybe sixty, because that was older than her parents, but she had been so, so wrong. She was glad she was having the chance to sort this all out in her head without anything having happened between them, because she wasn’t sure how she would have felt if she’d slept with him and _then_ learned his age.

At least he wasn’t acting any differently. Juska was pathetically grateful that he hadn’t stopped touching her afterward. It didn’t make her miss her family any less, but it did make her feel less lonely. It wasn’t the right reason to cuddle up with somebody, but both of them knew, and neither of them minded.

Well. That, and he had very nice arms. Being able to touch them was—

A voice sounded sleepily in her ear. “Juska?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin, and had to stifle a yell. This made Fandelmar start to laugh, and she smacked at his nice stupid arm where it was draped around her waist.

“So you are awake.” He was still chuckling.

“Yeah. Wide fucking awake, now. What?”

Fandelmar rolled onto his back and stretched out. “The sun is up. I thought you might want to get moving.”

“Yeah, we should.” She sat up and pointed to the horizon. “But see those?”

“The mountains?”

“Yeah. We’re headed into those.”

He groaned and sat up. “I will get the cloak out.”

“Good, because I guarantee it’s snowing there.”

“How far until we reach Windhelm?”

“I… don’t actually know.” Juska busied herself with digging them both out an apple from her pack to have as breakfast. “I’ve never been this far east.”

“Neither have I.” He bit into his apple when she handed it over.

Juska inspected hers as she spoke.“I’ve been keeping us parallel to the road for direction. We’ll probably have to actually use it from here on out, because I don’t trust myself to guide us through snow.” She looked over at Fandelmar and saw concern on his face. “I know. I don’t like it, either.”

“At least we are nearly in Ulfric’s hold. I don’t think Rumion will expect that I’ve run that way, in any case.”

They both went quiet as they focused on finishing their apples. It was slow going for her, because she could only bite down on one side. She had no idea what Fandelmar was thinking, but she was worried, and not for the right reasons. Sure, they’d get to Windhelm… and then what? Part of her was scared that he would go his own way once they were in relative safety. He would have every right to, but the thought of facing a strange city alone was terrifying.

Fandelmar tossed his apple core, then gave her one of his sober looks. “Juska?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for taking me with you. I know that I haven’t sounded very grateful, but I am.”

She smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

They rose and began breaking down camp. Juska saw to the remains of the fire, as usual, while Fandelmar rolled up their bedding and divided it between their packs. Once he was done with that, he got out the heavy cloak she had traded for. It was worn, and the hem was lightly stained, but it would keep him warm.

Hopefully.

He draped the cloak over his shoulders and gestured for her approval. It was a dark brown, which worked nicely with his green shirt, but it only fell to his knees. She chuckled and shook her head.

“I was right. It is too short.”

“Ah, well. My ankles are covered by the boots, in any case.”

With that, they made their way to the road and turned for the mountains. The rest of the trip hadn’t exactly been easy, but once they got into the pass, it became gruelling. Even Juska felt cold, and Fandelmar actually began to look slightly blue as time went on. This worried her, and she tried to pick up the pace, but her boots weren’t up to the task. After a few falls, she was forced to slow back down.

They reached the highest point of the road, and could see the valley before them, with the hint of a city in the distance through the haze. Fandelmar took one look at all the snow before them and groaned.

“Juska, I am very tired.”

She shook her head. “We can’t stop until we reach the city.” She slipped the glove off her good hand and pressed her palm to his cheek. “You’re too cold. You’ll get frostbitten.”

He frowned down at the valley before them. “We will be walking in the dark tonight, then.”

“On the road. And, most importantly, out of the mountains.” Juska handed him the glove she’d removed. “Does this fit?”

Fandelmar fumbled it on. “The fingers are slightly too short, but yes, mainly.”

“Good enough.” She set her pack down and dug through it until she found the glove’s mate. “Here’s the other one. We could wrap you in one of the hides, too, if you need.”

“I’m fine.” He slipped the glove on, and she got them walking again.

“You know,” he said after a while, “until I came to Skyrim, I had never seen snow.”

“...You went _one hundred years_ without snow?”

Fandelmar looked over at her. “It bothers you.”

“What does?”

“My age.”

She bit at her lip. “I can’t even imagine living that long.”

“Would you like to know how long meri live?” When she nodded, he continued. “Three hundred years is considered a good life.”

Juska thought about that for a moment. “So you’re not actually very old, for an elf.”

He shook his head.

“I’ll just… think of it that way, then. You’re not a great-grandfather in elf years.”

Fandelmar snorted. “‘Elf years.’”

She just shook her head and kept them walking. The wind picked up soon after, chilling them both even more, and so Fandelmar didn’t speak again.

They arrived at the bridge to Windhelm just before the moons began to set. Juska and Fandelmar paused for a moment and took in the view. The stone of the city was clearly worn, but not as old as Markarth, and the edges were softened by snow instead of wet from water. Nothing about it seemed particularly inviting, but she started walking across the bridge towards the gate anyway.

The Nord guards at the gate eyed them warily as they approached, and one of them actually snarled at Fandelmar, which made him take a step back in surprise.

“State your business. It’s late,” said the other.

“We’re looking to stay at an inn. Could you tell us where to go from here?”

The snarling guard looked them over. “For you two? Make a right when you get in. That’s the Grey Quarter.”

“O-okay,” Juska replied.

“Thank you,” Fandelmar said.

“Watch yourself, _elf_. We sure will be.” The snarling guard opened the gate.

Juska bared her teeth at the man, then grabbed Fandelmar by the hand and led him into the city. Fandelmar watched both the guards intently as they moved by. The snarling Nord muttered something to his companion as they passed, but she didn’t catch it.

“Such a warm welcome,” Fandelmar murmured as they paused in the main square to catch their bearings.

Juska gave him a weak smile and let go of his hand. She was thinking of her parents again.

“Well, they said to go right, so I guess we’ll go right.”

Snow had piled up in great drifts in the Grey Quarter because of the way the wind blew in the city, but even under that Juska could see that the district was more worn than the main square had been. It reminded her of her part of town back home, actually. The streets were narrow and looped back on themselves, crowded with buildings that blocked the moonlight. Despite this, they managed to find the inn, which was tucked away at the end of a street so short that it was basically an alley.

An exhausted-looking Dark Elf looked up at them when they entered. “Yeah?”

Juska walked to the counter while Fandelmar shook snow out of his hair and collar. “I’d like to talk about getting a room.”

“For you? Candlehearth Hall. It’s in the Stone Quarter.”

Fandelmar moved to stand beside Juska. “The city guard told us to come here.”

“Already making friends, eh?” The Dark Elf looked them over. “It’s ten a night per room.”

“I was actually hoping we could pay in trade. We’re planning to be here for… a while,” she said.

“Trade? Maybe.” He looked dubious. “What do you both do?”

“I’m a hunter,” she said, slipping her injured hand behind her back. “I could supply the inn with fresh game for your clients, in exchange for room and board.”

Fandelmar stayed quiet.

“I have fresh elk on me right now,” Juska added.

“Let me see it.”

She produced the wrapped meat from her pack. After inspecting it critically, the Dark Elf took out a heavy ledger and began flipping through it, comparing numbers on a few pages. Finally, he looked up at them both. “One room, with food. Alcohol’s extra.”

“Deal,” Juska said.

He held out a key, and she took it from him. “Up the stairs. Last room on the left.”

Juska tiredly trudged up the steps, with Fandelmar close behind. She unlocked the dark wooden door and revealed a narrow room, complete with a single narrow window, and a single narrow bed. Blessedly, however, the room did have a fireplace, and so was gloriously warm. She stepped in without comment and dropped her pack to the floor, then began removing her armor.

Fandelmar stood in the doorway. “I can sleep on the furs on the floor, Juska.”

She shook her head. “You don’t need to unless you want to.”

“As you like.” He closed the door behind them, then began sluggishly taking off his extra gear.

Juska stripped down to her tunic and fell onto the bed first. Fandelmar removed his shirt and shoes and joined her soon after. Gods, his skin felt so cold. Once he was settled in, she pulled the blankets over them and groaned in relief.

“Gods. Covers.”

“Mmm.” He put an arm over her waist and pulled her close. She could feel his voice against her back when he spoke again. “Thank the Eight.”

“Nine,” she said with a yawn.

He kissed her hair. “However many you want.”

“You’re sleepy.” He was being far too sweet. “Go to bed.”

Fandelmar yawned, then fell quiet. Soon, his breathing had deepened. The sound was as relaxing as ever, and she found that sleep wasn’t far behind for her, either.

 

Juska had intended to rise early the next day so that she could familiarize herself with the town, but because of the warmth of the room, the warmth of Fandelmar, and the comfort of being in a bed, it didn’t happen. When she did wake, she found him still asleep, and quietly rolled to inspect him.

His skin was once again its normal gold, with no trace of blue remaining. His cheeks and lips looked slightly wind-chapped from their trek over the mountains, but there was no frostbite on his face. Just some dirt, which she knew from experience wouldn’t be there long. There were also tangles in his hair, but she could loan him her comb later. She found herself wanting to run her fingers through it, so checked on his shoulder instead by pulling the covers back slightly. No blood on the bandage, which was a good sign. Now that they weren’t on the road, she could probably remove it and let it get some air.

Juska’s eyes flicked back upward to his face, and she found Fandelmar watching her sleepily.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

“Hey.” She rose into a sitting position. “I was checking your bandage. I think it can come off today.”

“Mm. Which brings me one day closer to stitch removal. How lovely.”

“Sit up for me.”

He obeyed with a yawn, bringing his chest and shoulders to eye level. Gods. Juska was going to have to deal with him being shirtless a lot from now on, probably. Having their own fireplace was wonderful... in every respect save this one.

Her hand slid over his shoulder, seeking the edge of the bandaging, and attempting to ignore the muscle beneath it. Once located, she began to unwrap him. “How does it feel?”

“Sore,” he admitted.

Juska frowned and kept unwrapping, and soon found out why. The wound was slightly inflamed. There was no pus, but the edges of the cut were red, and more angry than they should have been given how old it was.

“...Do they enchant Thalmor blades?”

He glanced over at his sword where it rested on the floor. “Not that I am aware of, but I wouldn’t put it past Lascelmo to have done something with his. He seemed the type.”

She bit at her lip and eyed his shoulder. “I’m going to have to cover you in more green shit. I don’t know what else to do.”

Fandelmar brushed at her lip with his thumb until she released it and looked up at him. “I’ll manage, Juska.”

Fuck. She wanted to kiss him again. Instead, she rose off the bed and moved to her pack to collect her healing supplies. Behind her, Fandelmar sighed and rested back onto his hands. He watched her quietly as she selected a few leaves and began grinding them up.

“I might try to scrape some money together to get you a potion,” she admitted as she moved back to the bed. She focused on the wound instead of his face as her fingers slid along his skin, spreading the paste along the stitches. “I might be able to trade again. I know what plants alchemists use. I could get them while I’m out hunting.”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“You kind of need your shoulder.”

Fandelmar went quiet, and Juska pulled her hand away and moved to the basin to wash off. Once she was done, she stepped into her trousers and began wrapping up in her furs. “I’m off to get a feel for the area, see if I can bring anything in. You wanna check the city out with me first?”

He shook his head and sank back down onto the bed, pulling the blanket up just short of his injury. “I still feel tired. I may rest a while longer.”

She busied herself with her pack to hide her frown. “Okay. I’ll be back later.”

His voice drifted quietly from the covers. “Be safe, Juska.”

When she exited the gloom of the inn, she was temporarily blinded by the sun glancing off the snowdrifts that filled the quarter. Once she regained her sight, she began weaving her way out of the quarter. There were a lot of Dark Elves on the street, and many of them watched her suspiciously as she passed.

By the time she got to the main square of the town, Juska had the worst feeling that she knew why they called the area the ‘Grey Quarter.’ Her first instinct was to see about the other inn that the Dark Elf innkeeper had mentioned the night before, but then she realized that the entire time she’d been in the quarter, she hadn’t seen a single guard. They were everywhere in the main square, and seemed to be patrolling the rest of the city, but the Grey Quarter appeared to be on its own.

It would be a good place to _hide,_  no matter how uncomfortable and on display she felt walking through it.  

When Juska made the return trip at dusk with a deer slung across her shoulders, she dealt with the stares by focusing her eyes on the ground. The main room of the inn was also full of Dark Elves, but when the innkeeper explained that she was their new meat supplier, they looked almost friendly. Food always crossed all sorts of boundaries. It had back in Markarth, too.

Fandelmar was still in bed when she let herself back into their room. Juska quietly washed up at the basin and got unkitted before she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. When she leaned in to feel his forehead, he opened his eyes.

“Welcome back.”

“Hey.” She withdrew her hand. He didn’t have a fever, at least. “You hungry?”

He shook his head. “Not particularly, no.”

“You need to eat. I’ll go bring us something up.”

Juska had honestly expected the Dark Elf innkeeper to be stingy with their food, given how carefully he’d checked his ledger during their bargaining, but he surprised her by bringing her two plates positively loaded with elk and potatoes when she asked. Her nose was filled with the scent of unfamiliar spices as she took the steps for the room.

She shouldered open their door and set their plates down on the small table across from the fireplace. “Come on. It smells good.”

Fandelmar rose obediently and moved for the vacant chair. “It does.”

While they ate, she told him her suspicions about why the quarter they were in was named what it was, but also mentioned the lack of guards.

“It doesn’t surprise me.” Fandelmar picked at his food. “The Thalmor were keeping a close eye on Ulfric, and the reports about the segregation in Windhelm were common knowledge. I was told Argonians aren’t even allowed within the city.”

“My parents would love this place.” Juska pushed her plate away and sat back in her chair.

“Were there many Altmer?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t see any.”

“Mm. I suspected as much.” He pushed away from the table and moved for the bed again.

Juska followed after him, and sat on the edge of the bed as he lay back down. “The Thalmor can’t come into the city, though. We’ll be okay.”

He looked up at her with worried eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

“Want to go explore the city?”

“Not at dark. We should go tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she agreed. When he pulled her over beside him, she pressed her face to his collarbone. He smelled like sweat and healing herbs. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

But when tomorrow came, or the day after, they still hadn’t gone, because Fandelmar wouldn’t get out of bed.


	13. Fandelmar

Fandelmar’s shoulder ached. It was a deep, dull pain that felt like it was emanating from the bone. His shoulder ached, and his head felt empty. He knew that there were things that needed to be done, and that he needed to find some way to contribute, but any time he attempted to put his mind to work… nothing. So he lay in bed, and slept, and was generally utterly useless.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? When their innkeeper had asked what they did for trade, Fandelmar had realized that he had very few marketable skills any longer. What good was a soldier on his own, without any armor?

Having Juska working to keep a roof over both of their heads was humiliating, but not humiliating enough to get him out of bed. She worried for the first four days, but on the fifth, exasperation began to set in. Her requests that he get out of bed began to have an edge to them, but even that didn’t cut through the fog in his mind.

On the sixth day, Juska entered the room holding a small parcel. He noticed it when she came to sit beside him on the bed.

“Hey,” she said, and reached over to brush his hair out of his face. “I have a present for you.”

He rolled onto his back and looked up at her. “A present? What for?”

“You’ll see. Now do me a favor and get out of bed.”

Juska stood and moved to slide one of the dining chairs away from the table and near to the wash basin. Once she was done, she indicated it with a hand. “Sit here.”

Fandelmar rose obediently and made his way over to the chair. When he sat down, Juska pulled out a mammoth-tusk comb and began gently working the teeth through his hair, piece by piece. It felt good, and soon his eyes were lidded heavily. The way her fingers pulled through his hair once she was done with a section to check for tangles triggered an old memory of Arianwe doing much the same for him after a long day on the road.

“Nobody has done this for me in a good long while.”

Juska dropped one hand to his good shoulder and squeezed it lightly, then continued working her way around his scalp until all the tangles were gone. Afterward, she gently guided him into a standing position and moved him in front of the wash basin.

“Head down.”

He dipped over the basin, and she carefully poured enough water over his hair to dampen it. Then, she opened the parcel and pulled out a bar of soap, which she also wetted before lathering up her hands. Soon, there were fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp, and working a refreshingly-scented soap all through his hair.

“Mm. That smells lovely.”

“It’s mint. I thought it might feel good.”

Ah, there was the tingle he associated with mint. “You were right.”

“Sit back down.”

Fandelmar obeyed, and she moved to stand behind him, working her fingers through his hair with slow, firm strokes. His eyes closed again as her thumbs eased down the back of his neck.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

He took a deep breath in, which smelled like mint. “I’m useless.”

Her fingers paused. “You’re not useless.”

“I’m a soldier with no armor and no direction. I haven’t done anything but follow orders for more than eighty years.”

Juska began working the soap down toward the ends of his hair. “So go freelance. Get people to hire you for jobs that need a blade.”

“Become a mercenary?”

“Sure, if you want to call it that.”

“I would still need armor.” And a functional shoulder.

“We can get you armor. There’s a good blacksmith in the Stone Quarter. We can go see him and talk pricing.”

Once again, she guided him into a standing position. He dipped his head over the basin, and she poured water from the pitcher, slowly rinsing the mint from his hair. One of her hands protectively cupped his eyes as she poured.

Juska decided his hair was clean, and reached for a towel to wrap his dripping hair in. Fandelmar moved to take over the drying, but she caught his wrist and had him sit down again instead. Once he was at a more manageable height, she began drying his hair herself. Soon it was barely damp, and she was quickly combing it away from his face to check for lingering tangles.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome. Now, drink this.” She pulled another item from the parcel, a bottle made from deep red glass, and offered it out.

The sight of it made Fandelmar feel miserable. “Juska, how much did this cost?”

“Nothing. I brought him in reagents and promised to keep an eye out for others during my hunts.”

He frowned at the bottle before uncorking it. Experience told him to drink it as quickly as possible to avoid the taste, so he tossed his head back and downed it in three quick swallows. Immediately, the skin at his shoulder began to crawl as the wound sped through the next part of the healing process. He shuddered against the sensation.

Juska was in front of him, inspecting his shoulder, before he’d had time to lower the bottle from his lips. “Gods. That’s so much better. I think the stitches can actually come out, now.”

“Then we should get that over with.”

She nodded and retrieved her little knife, and soon Fandelmar was experiencing the odd sensation of things being pulled loose from within him. It was less sickening now that he knew what to expect, and Juska made quick work of the stitches, so he wasn’t feeling it for long.

“There.” She put her knife away and tossed the stitch scraps into the fire. “Now, we should get a shirt on you, then go eat downstairs like people.”

Fandelmar rose and caught her wrist as she began to move past him to get his shirt. “Juska.”

She looked up at him.

“Thank you. I can take it from here.”

She smiled, and Fandelmar felt conflicted. On the one hand, her smiles were now adorable because of her missing tooth. On the other, one of his fellow Thalmor had done that to her. It was a pleasant-looking reminder of a terrible event. He averted his eyes from her mouth and stepped to his shirt, pulling it over his head before loosening his hair from its collar.

“Am I presentable?”

Juska smiled again. “I knew that shirt would be a good color for you. You look great.”

Fandelmar had to resist the urge to reach out and touch her. “Then we should eat.”

She opened their door and began walking for the stairs. He followed after, and was soon surprised to find the main room of the inn full. He hadn’t been in it since their initial arrival, and so had assumed it was always as dead and empty as it had been when they first came in.

Juska wove toward a free table, waving at a few Dunmer as they passed. Once they were seated, she leaned in to speak in his ear. “The regulars here like me because I feed them.”

Fandelmar moved in close to her own ear to reply. “That is why I like you, too.”

She lightly smacked at his shoulder.

The innkeeper made his way over a few moments later. “Juska, two dinners, as usual?”

“Yeah, Neloth, but we’ll be eating down here tonight.”

The innkeeper looked curiously at Fandelmar. “I’ll be back with your plates shortly.”

“Thank you,” he said.

The Dunmer nodded and moved for the kitchen door.

Juska leaned back in her chair with a small groan. “I’m starving. I didn’t eat breakfast.”

“Neither did I.”

“Fandelmar, you’ve hardly been eating at all.”

She’d said his name again. After those first few weeks of her intentionally avoiding its use, it surprised him every time she did.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. ‘Sorry’ will keep you in bed.”

Juska was right about that, he knew, so he tried to keep the guilt from his mind. When Neloth brought their food over a few minutes later, he ate as much of it as he could. It tasted good, but he just wasn’t hungry. Still, Juska seemed to both notice and appreciate the effort.

“Can I get you to come check out the city with me today?” she asked as she pushed her plate away.

Fandelmar nodded. “It would be a good idea to get my bearings.”

Juska grinned. “Great. Get your cloak and let’s go.”

“As you like.” He rose to return to their room, then came back down the stairs, cloak in hand. Juska waited until he had it on before moving for the door. When she held it open for him, he walked through with a slight chuckle.

She gave him a tour of all the places she’d found over the past week, the majority of which were outside the Grey Quarter. Fandelmar wasn’t sure if the Dunmer hadn’t wanted to trade with her, or if she’d left to be among her fellow Nords, but knew better than to ask. And it was easier to walk the Stone Quarter with her than it would have been alone. Many of the shopkeepers looked at him with suspicion as they passed.

On their way back to the inn, one of the city guards plowed into Fandelmar hard enough to knock him off his feet.

“Watch it, _elf_.”

Fandelmar looked up from the snowbank that had cushioned his fall and into the eyes of the snarling guard from their first night in town. Juska knelt to help him up, but he waved her off.

The guard hadn’t moved. “Well?”

He rose and brushed snow off his shoulders. “Yes?”

“Aren’t you going to apologize for running into me?”

Juska scoffed. “Are you _serious?_ ”

The guard crossed his arms. “Or, I can always bring him in for assault.”

She opened her mouth again, but Fandelmar silenced her with a hand to her shoulder, which he realized was a mistake when the guard’s face turned red. “I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I’ll let you get away with it– this time.” The guard grinned at him with yellow teeth, then turned and began to walk away.

The second the guard’s back was turned, Juska was beside him, feeling up under his shirt, her warm fingers seeking his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Fandelmar gently removed her hand. “I’m fine, Juska.”

“He could have hurt your shoulder.”

“He didn’t. Come on,” he said, starting walking again. “We should get back.”

They made the rest of the walk in silence. Juska was suspiciously looking around them as though prepared for another collision, but Fandelmar was deep in thought. If he wanted to keep out of sight, he was going to need to spend as much time as possible in the Grey Quarter, it seemed. If the snarling guard was any indication, others might go out of their way to cause problems, as well. The last thing he needed was the attention of racist Nords.

When they returned to the room, Juska made him take his shirt off and prove that his shoulder hadn’t been re-injured in the fall. Fandelmar patiently submitted himself for inspection, only smiling when she grudgingly admitted that the potion seemed to have done its job rather well.

He moved for the bed and sat down, more out of habit than a desire to sleep. Juska started removing her armor, setting it aside on one of the dining chairs, and then stepped out of her trousers. Fandelmar caught sight of her pale thighs and muscular calves as she walked for her pack, and immediately looked elsewhere.

Juska joined him on the bed a moment later with a book in her hand. “I thought I might read to you for a while? Something to do until dinner, you know?”

Fandelmar smiled. “I think I would like that.”

“This is my favorite book.” She showed him the cover. “It’s an old Nord hunting myth.”

“Well, I can guarantee that I have never heard it.”

She smiled and settled in next to him, bending her knees to give the book a place to rest. He lay back and listened, and was soon utterly engrossed. It seemed as though no time had passed at all before Juska declared they needed dinner. They ate downstairs, the main room of which was nearly completely filled with clientele, before retiring upstairs for the night.

Juska had to be up with the sun the next morning so that she could have the best chance of finding something for the inn. “My finger’s enough of a handicap, but hunting in snow isn’t easy, either.”

“Wake me before you leave, Juska,” he murmured as he slid into bed beside her.

She pressed in close against his back and slipped an arm over his waist. When she replied, he could feel her breath against his neck. “I will.”  


 

Fandelmar began a routine the following morning that saw him through the next several weeks: wake with Juska, then leave to look for work while she was out hunting. On the first day, he asked the innkeeper for ideas, and was told to check any business with a woodpile. “Everyone always needs wood for the fires here, and nobody wants to cut it. There’s also always work down at the docks, loading and unloading ships.”

He began with a walk around the Grey Quarter, and found several businesses with wood piles. The Dunmer alchemist was the first to hire him. It was a rough start, since it had been decades since he’d chopped wood, but he soon found a rhythm as muscle memory returned to him. The shopkeeper was impressed with his quick work, handed him ten gold, and asked him to come back tomorrow.

Before he left, he asked about the cost of a healing potion for a broken finger.

“For that?” she replied. “Sixty gold, I’d say. If the wound is older, a weaker potion might do, which would be forty.”

Fandelmar nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

It took a bit more time to find someone willing to hire him on the docks. Many of the Argonians were too nervous to speak with him, and many of the ship captains assumed he’d ask for more money for the work. Eventually, though, a ship needed an extra hand with loading, and with everybody else already employed, they took a chance with him. Lifting and shoving crates made his shoulder ache, but not enough to worry him.

Dock work paid by the crate, it turned out, and once he was done loading, he had made twenty more gold.

After that, he returned to the inn, and found Juska cleaning up from her hunt. They went down into the main room together to have breakfast, and he told her about the odd jobs he’d managed so far.

“I think I’ll do what you suggested, becoming a blade for hire,” he told her. “I just need decent armor.”

“It would pay better than woodcutting, at least,” she agreed.

That afternoon, Juska decided to head back out to look for reagents for the alchemist, because “it was always good to have one of them on your side.” Fandelmar braved the snow and went with her, and so received an impromptu lesson on the different plants that were in demand, how to harvest them, and how much to leave behind to allow the plants to regrow. They returned to the city with a decent collection, and she led the way to the alchemist in the Stone Quarter.

Fandelmar kept his eye on the guards, but none of them seemed to pay him any mind.

The alchemist who Juska had been working for turned out to be an Altmer. She got a price for the reagents, and was about to seal the deal when Fandelmar stepped in, speaking in their native tongue. “What if we traded this and some gold for a healing potion?”

Juska’s brow furrowed. “Fandelmar?”

The alchemist coughed thickly as he considered. “These and twenty-five gold would get you this.” He slipped a bottle onto the counter.

“Done,” Fandelmar said in common, and passed over his earnings. When the alchemist handed him the potion, he slipped his hand to the small of Juska’s back and led her from the store.

“Why?” she asked once they were on the street, and she was again walking without him needing to guide her.

“Because you need to not be in pain,” he said.

“Fandelmar. It will heal. You need armor.”

“And you need a functional hand for hunting.”

When they made it back to their room, he coaxed her into drinking it. Once she had, he began to carefully unwrap the now-filthy bandage from her fingers.

“Move them for me?”

She gently flexed her hand, curling and extending her fingers. “It’s a little stiff, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good.”

“You didn’t need to do that, you know.”

“You did it for me.” He smiled at her, and she sighed and shook her head.

“Fine, we’re even. Let’s go eat dinner.”

Seeing her eat without flinching at dinner that night made the soreness in his back and arms when he woke the next morning worthwhile. Again, he rose when she did, and made his way into the quarter to find more work as she went out to hunt. This continued for several days. At night, she would rub the soreness from his shoulders and back, and then hold him close when they slept.

It still wasn’t the right reason to be touching her, but it kept the looming sense of uselessness at bay. They were managing, he told himself. And once he got used to the city, he might even feel less miserable.

 


	14. Juska

Juska woke in the middle of the night and reached sleepily for Fandelmar, only to find his side of the bed empty. Her eyes opened, and she stared at the covers with a small frown, remembering that for the past two nights, she had slept alone. It continued to be surprising how much that bothered her.

Over the past month and a half, Fandelmar had been working odd jobs in the Grey Quarter, slowly saving up money for a new kit. A week ago, he’d gone to the smith in the Stone Quarter, and returned two days later to collect a nice set of scale mail that the man had made for him. Since then, work had come quickly, as he had made himself well-known among the Dark Elves while working alongside them. Many of them had problems, and a few even had coin to get them solved.

Two days ago, he’d been hired to retrieve stolen cargo for a merchant. He’d left that night, and Juska hadn’t slept well since.

It wasn’t just that she was worried, even though she was very worried. Nevermind that he was a soldier with almost a hundred years’ experience who could literally spit fire if he wanted to. (When he’d told her he could do that, she’d demanded a demonstration.) She also missed having him beside her at night, which had been surprising to realize. Being able to reach out and touch someone in the darkness was comforting.

When she was awake, she missed his voice. Specifically, the way he said her name. He’d said it a _lot_ since learning it, and it always sounded slightly breathy, slightly like a sigh, coming from him.

Juska rolled over into his spot, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply, glad that the Dark Elf innkeeper wasn’t due to change the sheets for another couple of days. She could smell him on the bedding, and with no one around to either notice or judge, she let that comfort her back into sleep.

She woke again at dawn, and rose to get kitted out and start her hunt for the day. She was hoping to set out rabbit traps to check in the evening, as well as bring something a bit larger in for Neloth.

It had snowed during the night, so everything in the city felt, and sounded, muffled. She crunched her way out of the Grey Quarter, silently thanking Talos that she’d finally been able to get new boots, and headed out the main square and across the bridge.

They’d been here long enough now that Juska had gotten a feel for the movements of the local game. Today, she picked a trail that led down by the water and began to creep along it, carefully minding the wind so that she wouldn’t be scented. She traveled it for a decent while before she saw movement up ahead at the water’s edge.

A buck. She didn’t necessarily need something that large today, as she’d brought Neloth one yesterday, but she could always sell what he didn’t want to other people. Candlehearth Hall had taken excess off of her a couple of times already.

She quietly drew her bow, took careful aim, and fired. With that, their place under Neloth’s roof was assured for another day. After retrieving her arrow, she draped her prize across her shoulders and began the walk back into town, pausing periodically to place the rabbit traps she’d made out of boredom the day before.

The guards at the gate greeted her cheerfully as she came back across the bridge, commenting on “another clean kill!” Juska smiled at them and gave a little wave. They were always very pleasant to her. It was the afternoon and night guards that sometimes caused problems.

Neloth was thrilled that she’d brought back so much. Apparently he’d been having more and more people coming by for meals since Juska started bringing in regular meat, and was pleased that there was supply to meet this new demand.

“Sounds like I’m doing pretty well for you.”

“You are.” He eyed her cannily. “I was going to suggest that perhaps the two of you should move to the inn’s biggest room, unless you want your own rooms.”

“Does the big room have a fireplace?”

Neloth nodded. “It also is the only one with a bath. I won’t fill it every day, mind, but once a week for each of you seems reasonable enough.”

“Done.” she said immediately. Fandelmar would probably kill a man for access to a bathtub at this point. He had expressed his frustrations at just having a wash basin several times over the last week alone.

Neloth chuckled. “It’s the first room at the top of the stairs. I’ll get you the key.”

“Thanks, Neloth. We appreciate it.”

He rose from where he had leaned behind the counter and handed the key out to her. “Bring me back the other key once you’ve moved your things.”

“Of course!”

Juska clambered up the stairs and opened the door to their new room. The window was larger. The bed was larger. And behind a screen, there was the promised tub, looming old and worn and wooden in the middle of a thick rug. Moving their few things in took hardly any time at all, since Fandelmar had his pack with him, and Juska was wearing her kit. But her book went on the bedside table, and their spare clothes into the wardrobe, before she rested her bow in the corner and began to remove her furs. She had some time to kill before she checked the rabbit traps.

She decided to stop off at the temple to Talos next. The novelty of there being an entire temple that people could just openly walk in and out of, with priests that didn’t have to hide, was still strong for her. She had been visiting every couple of days, though she never stayed long. Her prayers were simple: one for her family’s safety, and then one for Fandelmar’s safety. If Talos didn’t like that she prayed for a High Elf, he had shown no sign.

After Juska had done her duties at the temple, she headed for the alchemist’s. She’d decided about a week ago that it might be a good idea to learn how to make basic potions. Nurelion, the High Elf who ran the store, was rather ill and often busy with clients, but his assistant Quintus was not only nice, but eager to help. He said that teaching her helped reinforce what he was learning from Nurelion, and that it was no trouble at all.

Today, she’d brought in her own stock of things she’d gathered while out hunting, and Quintus walked her through what was best combined with what. The ingredients for healing, she’d memorized almost immediately upon starting the lessons, and today she managed to make four small potions without breaking the equipment or setting the building on fire.

“You’re a fast learner,” Quintus told her as she slipped the cooling potions into her pack.

“My ma’s a healer,” she said. “Anything that’s not for healing is going to be an adventure, though.”

“How about next time we try a potion that will keep you warm in snow? Might be useful for your hunting!”

He handed her a list of ingredients, and she promised to try to find them. She was going to have to buy an herb guide at this rate.

By now, enough of the day had passed that Juska felt checking her traps would be worthwhile. She headed back out across the bridge, ignoring the more surly afternoon guards, and retraced her steps from the morning.

Two of the traps were full. Juska made short work of the rabbits within them, and reset them as an afterthought. Fandelmar having pocket money occasionally had made her decide to try for the same, and she was hoping that she would be able to sell today’s catch to the meat vendor in the Grey Quarter. The denizens there had finally stopped staring and muttering when she was out, so she was ready to try doing business with them. That, and after seeing how they were treated by the rest of the Nords in the city, she was much more willing to forgive their suspicion than she had been when she’d first arrived.

It was dusk by the time she finished checking and resetting all of her traps, and dark by the time she’d crossed the bridge back into the city. All the businesses had closed up shop, and the townsfolk were headed homeward. She’d have to make her sale in the morning.

Juska knelt and rummaged in her pack, looking for a cloth to wrap the rabbits in so they wouldn’t bleed on her things overnight. She was so busy bundling everything up that she nearly missed the crunch of a boot in the snow behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, there was a shape in the shadows, standing just outside the firelight.

She immediately gave up wrapping the rabbits and looked around for a guard. Unfortunately, she was just inside the Grey Quarter, and so there were none in sight.

_Yeah, fuck this._  Juska rose and began briskly making her way toward the inn, ears listening hard. Sure enough, the boots were following. She turned the first corner she came to, and felt her heart leap into her throat when the footsteps behind her broke into a run.

It was only three streets to the inn. Juska took off into a proper sprint, glancing behind her, and was relieved to find that her pursuer seemed deterred by the openness of the street around her. Not relieved enough to slow down, though. She didn’t stop until she’d reached the inn door and it had slammed behind her. She stood in the main room, red-cheeked and breathless, and tried to ignore the way the patrons had looked up from their drinks.

Neloth frowned from behind the bar. “Juska, is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” she breathed. “I think someone was following me?”

To her surprise, one of the patrons rose and went to check outside. “Whoever it was is gone,” he said once he returned.

“It’s not safe out in the quarter at night,” a Dark Elf woman chided. “Especially not alone.”

Juska nodded. “I don’t think I’ll be making that mistake again.”

“You need a drink?” Neloth began to reach for a mug. “Mead, on the house.”

She moved for the bar and took an open seat. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

The sounds of the inn began to pick up again once she was settled with her drink. It wasn’t great mead, which wasn’t surprising. Her instinct was to chug it and head for her room, but she forced herself to sip it and soak in the conversations around her. She’d been feeling very isolated since Fandelmar left, and it was nice to just be around people for a bit.

Once the mug was empty, she was feeling calmer. Calmer, and more and more like curling up on Fandelmar’s side of the bed and just smelling him for a little while, as pathetic as that was. She shouldn’t be pining for someone who had turned her down flat.

But, after thanking Neloth, she realized that she couldn’t have done that, anyway; they had a new room, with a new bed. So once she’d let herself in, stepped out of her trousers, and slumped over into the bed, she drifted asleep surrounded by unfamiliar smells.

 

When she woke the next morning, there was a hand running through her hair.

“Juska?” The voice was soft, and breathy, just like she’d been missing.

She opened her eyes and found Fandelmar sitting on the edge of the bed. A smile formed, then died, on her lips as she got a good look at him. She sat bolt upright. “Fucking gods, Fandelmar! Are you okay?”

He gave her a wry smile. “Is it that bad?”

Juska let her fingers roam over his face. Black eye, bruised jaw. He was out of his armor, so she could see that his left arm was bandaged at the bicep. “What happened?”

“Turns out the thief was a Khajiit who excels at punching.”

She started to undo the bandage on his arm, revealing four deep lacerations. Juska looked up at him miserably. “These won’t need stitches, but they’re going to scar.”

“You look sad. Shouldn’t that be good news?”

Her hand began sliding down his arm, but she managed to pull away before it turned into a caress. “You just…. Your poor skin.”

Fandelmar looked confused, but she didn’t elaborate. All she could think of was how flawless his skin had been when they’d first met in the woods, and how that first scar had seemed to bother him so much. He still worried at it sometimes when he was deep in thought. She hadn’t felt it since it had healed, but the sight of his fingers on it made her want to very badly.

Juska rose from the bed and moved for her pack. “I have good timing, at least. I made my own healing potions yesterday.” She pulled them out and presented one. “I can almost guarantee they won’t poison you. No promises on flavor, though.”

Fandelmar took the one she offered and uncorked it, giving it a sniff. “It smells right.” Then, he tossed it back, and Juska had the strange luck to watch the bruises on his face fade. They glanced together at the wound on his arm. Not closed yet. Silently, she handed over a second one.

While he drank it, she rose and headed for his pack, slipping the other two potions inside it.

“Wait…” She turned and looked at him. “How did you find the room?”

Fandelmar chuckled. “Neloth warned me.” He looked around. “I like it. It’s cozier.”

She moved to step into her trousers. “I’m going to go ask him to get the bath going for you.”

“Juska.”

She paused, one leg in, and looked up to see him watching her with a serious expression on his face. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Juska licked her lips and finished getting dressed. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“As am I.” He fell backward onto the bed with a soft huff.

Since Neloth had seen the state Fandelmar was in, he happily got the bath ready. “Once you’ve both gotten clean, let me know, and I’ll empty it.”

He was in and out of the room rather rapidly, considering; magic had its perks. Soon it was just the two of them, with a full bath that was steaming slightly.

“You first,” she offered, and settled down on the bed, where the bath would be sheltered by the screen.

He rose without complaint, undressing as he went, and was down to his underclothes by the time he was behind the screen. A few seconds later, she heard the ripple of water and a happy groan.

“I needed this,” he said.

“You also need the soap.” Juska laughed when a far less happy groan sounded from behind the screen. “Stay put, I’ll get it.”

She rose and grabbed it from its resting place by the basin before holding it around the screen. Fandelmar leaned his head back far enough to see her and grinned as he took it from her.

“So this is the secret to privacy, then? A screen was all I needed?”

“I’m trying to be nice.”

A pause as he dunked his head under the water, then: “How was everything while I was away?”

Juska returned to the bed and chewed on her lip as she pulled her knees to her chest. After a moment’s debate, she decided to be honest. “I… got chased through the quarter last night.”

“ _What.”_

“Yeah. I didn’t see whoever it was, but it was pretty scary.”

There was a long pause. When Fandelmar spoke again, his voice was very quiet. “Please don’t go out at night when I am not here.”

“I won’t.” When the sounds of bathing resumed, she added: “Other than that, everything was fine. I caught some rabbits yesterday that I’m considering trying to sell to that Dark Elf meat vendor.”

“Mmmm, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Apparently he was the inn’s supplier before we came to town.”

“...Oh.” Juska frowned at her pack. “I guess I’ll try the Stone Quarter, then. I just thought it would be nice to have some pocket money.” She should get a sewing kit next, especially if he was going to keep coming back with torn shirts.

“It has been nice to be able to buy wine, I will admit.”

Juska stifled a sigh. Fandelmar had started drinking a few weeks ago, just heavily enough to make her worry. But it was his money, and his neck he was now risking taking contract work. She had no right to say anything.

“You have any plans for today?” she asked. “Once I go out hunting, I’ll be free.”

“Only to spend time with you.”

She felt a flutter in her chest and rose to get her furs on. “I’ll get on it, then, while you’re soaking. Breakfast after?”

“Sounds perfect. Be safe, Juska.”

The streets were unusually crowded, considering how early it was, and they only seemed to get more so as she moved for the main square. By the time she arrived, the crowd had grown into a throng, which was being held back by guards.

Juska paused and listened, trying to figure out what was going on. The people around her were shifting restlessly, trying to get a look at something lying beyond the ring of guards in the same area she had paused to settle the rabbits last night. She squinted just as the shuffle parted enough for her to see what was lying in the snow. It was a woman. No, it was _parts_ of a woman, and there was blood everywhere, in a great ring around her.

She had seen dead people before, and seen blood, and caused both those things directly. But, she had never seen someone _butchered_. And now that she could place the source, she could smell the bitter tang of death lying heavily over the square.

Juska wasn’t sure how she made it back to the inn, but when she finally felt her gorge rise at the memory of what she’d just seen, she vomited into the wash basin. She must have burst into the room in a rush, because Fandelmar was out of the tub and standing behind her, dripping wet and very concerned. She focused on him in the mirror as his hands found her shoulders, and realized he was saying her name.

“Juska. Juska, what’s the matter?”

“I think I almost died last night,” she managed, and then dry heaved over the basin again.


	15. Fandelmar

Over the next few days, Fandelmar hardly let Juska out of his sight. The woman being murdered had rattled them both. Gossip in the main room of the inn suggested that the guard had no idea who was responsible, which the Dunmer were cynically surprised at, considering “the dead girl was a Nord.” If she’d been a mer, they said, that would make sense, but if that were happening for a human, it meant the killer was clever. Either that, or the guard was overworked with the war. Fandelmar suspected both.

He overheard all this while nursing a goblet of wine and waiting for Juska to come down for dinner. She had lain down for a nap a little over an hour ago, but he had been too nervy to rest with her.

He was staring at the dregs in his glass and contemplating the expense of another when one of the regular dinner patrons stumbled in, pressing his sleeve to his lip. When the room’s attention turned to him, he pulled his arm away to reveal a split lip and a bruising chin.

“Watch the guards tonight, everyone,” he warned. “The Stormcloaks lost a battle, and word’s just got back.”

“Come here,” Neloth said, and offered out a clean cloth for the man’s mouth.

Fandelmar felt a chill that had nothing to do with the snow that had blown in with the new arrival. He had a vested interest in the Stormcloaks _not_ losing battles. A new glass of wine was sounding more and more appealing.

Juska chose that moment to walk down the stairs, meeting his eyes partway and smiling at him as she crossed the room. She had a slight wrinkle in her cheek from the bedding, and her hair was messy from sleep. These small details banished all thoughts of wine from his mind.

By the time she was sitting beside him at the table, she had noticed the atmosphere of the room. “What’s going on?”

“Ulfric’s men have lost a fight to the Imperials.”

“Shit,” she murmured. “We need them to be doing the opposite of that.”

Fandelmar shook his head. “Don’t I know it.”

They paused as Neloth brought them over their dinner, and began eating in silence.

“Are you feeling any better, Juska?” he asked at last.

She nodded, then swallowed her bite. “Yeah, I think so. Still not going to be walking around after dark alone ever again, though.”

“Good. I.…” he frowned down at his plate. “Please take care when I’m not here.”

“I will, I promise. I wasn’t thinking. I was trying to stay busy and just lost track of time.”

“I plan to stay around for as long as I can. Maybe there is work in town.”

Juska prodded at a slice of cabbage. “You could find the murderer.”

“ _Low-profile_ work, Juska.”

She smiled at him, and he found himself smiling back despite his worry.

After they finished dinner, they retired to their room. Juska still wasn’t completely comfortable spending large amounts of time in the main area of the inn. Since he felt much the same way any time he had to enter the Stone Quarter, he didn’t press the issue.

Juska looked around their room with a hand on her hip. “We need a deck of cards or something.”

Fandelmar chuckled. “Bored of my company?”

She shook her head and settled into a chair. “No. Bored of the room.”

He sat down across from her. “That I can understand.”

Juska leaned forward on her elbows and grinned at him. “Tell me a story?”

“...I suppose I could. What did you have in mind?”

“Anything, really. I like your voice.” He must have made a face, because her smile widened. “No, seriously though. Tell me a High Elf story.”

They ended up passing the night with him telling her various Altmer legends and creation myths. She had a lot of questions, and kept him entertained by pointing out where the ones she had learned as a child differed. Once the candles burned low, they retired to bed, and she nestled in against his chest and closed her eyes. Her breath was soft against his collarbone as she fell into sleep. He kept his arm tight around her and tried not to think about how much worse her encounter alone in the dark could have gone.

Nightmares found him in the early morning, but Juska woke him and pressed to his back, which allowed him to drift more pleasantly until she rose to go hunting. Typically, he would have risen with her, but since he had nothing scheduled for the day he decided to stay in bed and try to make up the sleep the nightmares had cost him. Once she was dressed and out of the room, he rolled over onto her side of the bed and closed his eyes again. Her scent was on the pillow, and it helped him find sleep once more.

 

When he woke again, Juska was washing her hands in the basin.

“Did the hunt go well?” His voice sounded gravelly. He sat up and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

She jumped. “Oh! You’re awake. Yeah.”

He watched her chew on her lip, well aware by now that this rarely meant anything good. “But?”

“The morning gate guards are always really nice to me.” Juska moved to sit on the edge of the bed and began fidgeting with her fingers. “Today they stopped me and warned me about something.”

“What?”

Finally, she met his eyes. “They say Thalmor have been sighted in Eastmarch.”

Fandelmar let himself sink backward into the bedding. When he covered his face in his hands, she added, “I know. But they still can’t get in the city. The guards said.”

He thought about what he knew of Thalmor retrieval tactics. They might not enter the city themselves, but they would certainly pay other people to do the dirty work for them. Anyone around the two of them could be a threat. But Juska was already rattled from the other night, and he couldn’t bear to make it worse in the present moment.

“You’re right,” he replied.

Juska leaned in, hair falling over one shoulder, and pulled his hands from his face. “Hey. We’ll be okay.”

He studied her for several moments before managing a small smile. “I know.”

“Come on. Let’s feed us and then go shopping.” She tugged on his hands, and he followed her lead and rose into a sitting position.

“For what?”

“A deck of cards!”

He moved for his shirt, then frowned down at the sliced sleeve. “Perhaps another shirt or two for me, as well.”

“Sure,” she agreed, “so long as they’re green.”

Fandelmar chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head, then tried tidying his hair in the mirror. After a little finger brushing, he gave in and reached for Juska’s comb to work out the sleep tangles. She watched him in the mirror as he finished.

Breakfast was uneventful, which was a good sign after the mild chaos of the inn’s main room the previous night. They made quick work of Neloth’s cooking before stepping out into the cold to shop. Fandelmar was unhappy to discover that it was snowing, and mentally added “cloak with a hood” to his shopping list. That one might have to wait, however, because he didn’t want to spend all of his money too quickly.

There were a few vendors in the Grey Quarter that would likely have what they needed, but Juska set off for the Stone Quarter’s marketplace without a second thought. Fandelmar followed after, resigning himself to cold stares and potentially higher prices.

To his great relief, he soon found that one of the stalls in the marketplace was run by another Altmer. As soon as he saw her, he was weaving through the crowd of men, with his hand at the small of Juska’s back to keep her with him.

“Strange seeing you here,” he said in their language once he stood before the other mer.

“I could say the same thing,” she replied in kind.

Juska looked confused, and Fandelmar immediately switched to common. “The two of us are out shopping for some items that I’m hoping you’ll have.”

The other mer changed languages without comment. “I have a bit of everything. Try me!”

“A deck of cards?” Juska asked.

The Altmer woman leaned over her stall and grinned. “Basic, or bawdy?”

“Oooh, tough call.”

“Basic, please,” Fandelmar said. “We are not soldiers at a fort.”

“Spoilsport,” Juska said. “The poses are always _great_.”

The Altmer woman smiled. “While the two of you debate, perhaps I can search for whatever else you need?”

“I’d like two shirts, please.”

The other mer looked him over. “I believe I have your size. I might even be able to offer you a color choice. I’m out of blue, though. All the Nords in the city bought me out.”

Juska shoulder-bumped him. “If you have green, he’ll take two.”

“Two green it is, then.” She rummaged under the stall for a moment, then reappeared with the shirts.

“And we’ll take the bawdy cards.” Juska grinned up at Fandelmar, who gave the other Altmer a resigned smile.

“May I have your name?” he asked her.

Juska gripped his bicep forcefully.

“Niranye. And you?”

“I am Fandelmar. This is Juska.” He indicated the Nordess who was now staring daggers at his left eye.

“I haven’t seen you two around much,” Niranye said.

“We’re new.”

“Well, I welcome more Altmeri, and especially welcome paying customers.” She smiled and leaned her elbows on the stall. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

“Actually…" Fandelmar pried Juska’s fingers from his arm. “I’d be interested to know if any more of our brethren show in town. I’d pay for the information.”

Niranye eyed him. “Good to know.”

“ _Well_ ,” Juska cut in, “it was _wonderful_ meeting you Niranye, but we need to go now.” With this, she half-dragged Fandelmar away. Niranye gave them both a bemused wave as they went.

“Juska,” he murmured as she pulled him down a side street, “what’s the matter?”

“That was a _bad idea_. You can’t just go around telling any old High Elf who we are!”

His brow furrowed. “Why not? Not every Altmer is a Thalmor.”

“It just– It….” She tossed her hands in the air. “It’s not safe.”

He sighed. “We have to _live_ here, Juska. Anyone who knows our name is a threat, by that way of thinking.”

“Fine.” She turned back for the market. “Let’s head home.”

Fandelmar followed after her in silence, holding his new shirts and feeling at a bit of a loss. They were almost back to the Grey Quarter when a guard, who appeared to be off-duty, flagged them down. Or, rather, flagged Juska down.

“Juska!”

“Just a sec,” she said, and moved for the guard, who was holding his helmet under one arm and smiling. He was a Nord, and his blond hair was heavily braided and fell to his chin.

Fandelmar leaned against a nearby wall and watched the two of them talk. Juska was grinning at the other man in a way that felt uncomfortably familiar to him. Still, he stayed put until she lightly punched his arm and they both started laughing.

That got him walking for them before he was even aware he’d left the wall. The Nord eyed him as he approached, and his smile faded. Juska noted the change in his expression and turned toward Fandelmar.

“I said I’d be right back,” she said.

“We need to go.” He stood next to her and slid his hand to the small of her back, eyeing the Nord.

“O-okay. Fine. Sorry, Bjorni,” she added, looking up at the guard.

“Just think about it, Juska, okay?” he said.

“I will,” she called as Fandelmar guided her away.

She waited until they were in the Grey Quarter to speak again. “What the _fuck,_  Fandelmar?”

His jaw worked as he tried to articulate what was wrong. “You think me telling a shopkeeper our names is dangerous, and then you turn around and chat up a guard?”

“Bjorni’s one of the morning gate guards. He’s the one who told me about the Thalmor being here!”

“Wonderful. Now, when they start asking around about a Nordess and an Altmer, he’ll know just where to send them.”

Juska made a frustrated noise. “You know what he wanted? He said I should apply to be a guard.”

“Absolutely _not_.”

“Why not? And who gave you a say?”

Fandelmar stopped walking and looked down at her seriously. “They might put you on patrol at night. Guard armor won’t protect you from–”

“It would help me protect _you_!”

He stared down at her, stunned, and she looked back up at him, appearing equally surprised by her outburst. After a moment, he reached out and cupped her cheek. “I appreciate it, but I don’t need your protection, Juska.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah, idiot, you really do.” Fandelmar dropped his hand, and she continued: “Go back to the inn. I want to get the details about the guard job, but I don’t want too many of them noticing that you exist.”

He sighed. “As you like.”

Juska turned without another word and walked back toward the Stone Quarter. Fandelmar watched her for a moment, then followed her instructions and returned to the inn. Something about their entire interaction in the market was bothering him.

It took standing in their room and looking around at the life they were building within it to place the feeling. _Jealousy._ He was jealous of the guard, and it was possible that Juska had been jealous of Niranye. Fandelmar sank heavily onto the bed and ran his hands through his hair. Was he jealous because he liked Juska, or was he jealous of anybody that might take her away from him and leave him alone in this place?

Gods help him, but he wasn’t sure. But if it _was_ the latter, he utterly loathed himself. He rose from the bed and headed for the main room to get a glass of wine.


	16. Juska

“Hey Juska,” called Bjorni as she made her way back to town with three braces of pheasant, “where’s your man this morning? I thought he followed you like a wolfhound.”

Juska scoffed. “I don’t have a man.”

The other gate guard chuckled. “Just don’t want to own to being with a High Elf, huh?”

Juska’s cheeks flushed. “What, you’ve never heard of friends?”

“A High Elf friend? _No_.”

Bjorni cut in. “Think about the guard job, Juska. You’d be able to live in the barracks at the palace instead of in the slums with the greyskins.”

“I’m no good with weapons that aren’t a bow.”

“We do get trained.” He grinned at her. “Could see you with an axe.”

She pushed past them into the main square. “I’ll think about it,” she called over her shoulder.

There was a crowd on the palace steps when she entered the square, and at first she thought there had been another murder. Juska moved toward the throng, and asked a Nord woman what was going on.

“I heard the Dragonborn just went in to speak with Jarl Ulfric!”

Juska blinked. “Dragonborn? That’s just a myth.”

“No! She killed the dragon that attacked Whiterun and took its soul!”

Juska blinked again. She hadn’t really had time to think about the dragon she and Fandelmar had seen while they were fleeing. They had too many problems to add one that shouldn’t even exist to the pile. That, and her pa had used to tell her stories about the old Nords and the dragons when she was a little girl. Having bedtime stories come to life was a little more than she could handle.

Still, she hung around for a while, just to see if she could catch a glimpse of whoever had made all of these people so restless. It took roughly half an hour for the person they were all looking for to walk back outside of the keep. The Nord at her side gasped as the woman on the steps came into clearer view.

“She can’t be Dragonborn! She’s not even a Nord!”

Juska watched the petite brunette Breton crunch down the snowy steps, determinedly ignoring the staring, and turn for the Stone Quarter market. Pa would have a stroke if he saw her claiming to be Dragonborn. Based on the murmurings around her, she was not the only one with that opinion.

“She may just be an imposter, if there really was a Dragonborn at Whiterun,” Juska mused to her fellow gawker.

“I hope so, because if the Dragonborn _is_ a Breton, the dragons are going to burn us all.”

Gods. What a thing to do. Who would pretend to be a dragon-slaying legend? She must be in it for the money. What a crook.

Juska was still fuming, though more about the gate guards, when she arrived at the inn and gave Neloth her due for the day. She got enough judgmental treatment from the Dark Elves as it was; she didn’t need any from the Nords, too.

Neloth seemed to notice her mood. “Long morning?”

“Just some guards giving me trouble.”

“Looks like you walked away with your coin and no new bruises. That’s better than most of my other patrons would manage.”

She shook her head. “Good point. Hey, could you get the bath ready for us today? I could use a soak.”

Neloth chuckled. “Fandelmar will appreciate that when he gets back.”

“He’s out?”

The innkeeper nodded. “Said he was headed back to the docks to work for the day.”

Juska chewed on her lip. Fandelmar had hated the dock work when he was earning money for his armor. He had been determined to stay close ever since the murder, however. Hopefully he would be less worried if nothing else happened over the next few days.

“Thanks, Neloth.” She smiled at the Dark Elf as she went for the stairs. “See you upstairs in a bit.”

“Just let me put these birds away.”

Juska was out of her armor and in the bath within the hour, thanks in no small part to Neloth using magic to speed the filling of the tub along. She sank down in it with a little groan before dunking her head and letting her hair drift around her in the water. They hadn’t had a bath growing up, but now that she had experienced them, she had to admit they were nice. Like washing in the river, but warmer. Much warmer.

She had scrubbed clean and was soaking in the now-minty water when Fandelmar walked in. He realized where she was and immediately averted his eyes.

“Ah, Juska. Good morning.” He stepped to the other side of the screen.

“Neloth and I thought you might want a bath after work today."

She heard him removing his boots. “I always want a bath, but yes, today it would be extra appreciated. I am very sweaty from moving crates.”

“Have you not been able to find any contracts?”

There was a pause. “Nothing that keeps me close.”

Juska sighed and rose from the water. “I’ll be fine, Fandelmar. Really. It was just a dumb mistake.”

“I know that you can take care of yourself. I also worry.”

She began toweling off. “I appreciate it, you know.”

He chuckled. “Really? My family never liked it when I was overbearing.”

She moved for the wardrobe and selected the grey wool dress she’d gotten as a replacement for the one lost on the road, then began lacing herself into it. “From you, it’s cute.”

Now that she was decent, he turned to look at her. “‘Cute.’”

She thought about the gate guards as she sat beside him on the bed. “Yeah, but only when it’s not in public. Water’s ready.”

Fandelmar rose and stepped behind the screen to begin undressing. “Someone giving you trouble?”

“Just a couple of gate guards calling you my ‘man.’”

There was a pause, punctuated by the rustling of clothes. “These were the ‘nice’ ones?”

Juska flopped backward onto the bed. “Yeah. I think you pissed off Bjorni in the market yesterday.”

He sighed. “I apologize for that, by the way.” Water rippled as he sank into the tub with a quiet, “ _gods_.”

“What got into you?”

“It is… difficult to explain.” The sounds of scrubbing began, and the scent of the soap they both used drifted her way. “The Stone Quarter makes me very nervous. I am much more comfortable in the Grey Quarter.”

“You don’t feel comfortable around Nords,” she said, tone slightly accusing.

“I feel as comfortable around Nords as you do around the Dunmer, Juska.” A soft splash as he ducked his head and then came up for air.

“That’s… okay, that’s fair. We should find a place where we’re both uncomfortable.”

“There is always the Argonian encampment, at the docks.”

“...Yeah, I changed my mind.”

A soft chuckle sounded from behind the screen. “I thought you might.”

Juska was quiet for a while, staring up at the ceiling of the room, before she spoke again. “I think we’re both a little racist.”

The splashing behind the screen grew louder as Fandelmar rose from the tub and moved for a clean towel. “You are correct. You didn’t grow up around Dunmer. I didn’t grow up around Nords. We are both out of our element.”

“Are there many Dark Elves in the Isles?”

“No, but… they are still meri, and the fact that I am not a Nord helps me greatly in our current situation.”

Something from earlier in the day clicked in Juska’s head at this. “I saw the Dragonborn today.”

Fandelmar appeared from behind the screen, wrapped in his towel, and began collecting clean clothing. “I don’t know who or what that is.”

As he got dressed, Juska took a moment to fill him in on Nord mythology, watching in amusement as he reacted to what she was saying. The dragons he accepted, because he had seen them, but the Nords _speaking_ dragon and stealing souls seemed suspect, according to his eyebrows.

“So there is a Nord in town who fights dragons by yelling at them, and takes their souls?”

“Yeah. Except she’s a Breton.”

“Ah.” Fandelmar toweled at his hair. “I am confused.”

“So am I. My gut reaction was that she was an imposter, trying to cheat the Jarl out of money.”

“And what was your head’s reaction?”

Juska rose onto her elbows and looked over at him. “That I’m a fucking racist, thanks to my parents.”

“I can relate to that.” His voice was quiet. “It took me many years not to look down on others who weren’t Altmeri. I still do, sometimes,” he added. “I catch myself thinking things that are neither right, nor fair.”

“Well, good to know one hundred years of trying wouldn’t fix me, anyway.”

He snorted. “If you spent that time out of your element, it might. I spent most of mine on Auridon. It is not the most diverse place.”

“Neither was Markarth, not really.” Juska rose and walked over. “Let me brush your hair.”

He raised an eyebrow, but sat obediently in one of their dining chairs. She came over with the comb and began running it through his damp hair. It was darker when it was wet, but still so much lighter than her own dirty blond hair. Her Ma would have loved her to have hair like his.

“Why do you keep it so long?” she asked.

Fandelmar shrugged. “It looks good that way.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” She squeezed his shoulder and went to set the comb back by the wash basin.

He started to reply, but the words were lost in a sudden cacophony. The entire building shook, hard, almost hard enough to make her lose her balance, and she heard screams from people outside.

“What the _fuck_?” she asked.

A deafening roar answered.

Fandelmar moved to her side, eyes wide. “Is that a dragon?”

Juska lunged for her armor. “It’s going to burn the whole quarter down. We need to–”

He grabbed her arm. “There are _guards_ for that.”

She grinned at him, and he gave her a strange look. “Come on, haven’t you ever wanted to fight a dragon?”

“You have never been more Nord than in this present moment, Juska.” But when she moved for her armor again, he didn’t stop her. In fact, he began strapping into his mail.

The inn shook several more times, and outside the shouting was growing angry rather than fearful, which Juska hoped meant the arrival of the guard. Once Fandelmar was kitted out, they ran down the stairs, through the cowering inn patrons, and out into the world.

It was chaos. People were running through the streets, trying to find shelter, as the guards yelled and peppered the dragon above with arrows. It circled above them, so large and heavy that she could feel its wingbeats in her middle as it kept aloft. It made a pass, mouth open to breathe on a guard, but to her relief it produced ice rather than fire. Ice, Windhelm could withstand.

She drew her bow and waited, and as it circled closer again, she fired a shot at its belly. The arrow sank in deep, but the dragon barely seemed to notice. It kept flying, this time toward the center of the city, and she took off down the street after it.

“Juska!” Fandelmar called after her.

“Come on!”

Once she reached the center square, she found it circling again, and fired off a few more arrows. One landed in its armpit, which made it roar. She was laughing and lining up a second shot when someone else called her name.

“Juska!” She looked toward the voice and found Bjorni on the wall. “Come up here! You’ll get a better shot!”

She took the steps quickly, after making sure that Fandelmar was close behind her.

“I need to learn to shoot,” he muttered. “My sword is useless here.”

The other guards on the wall looked at his blade, and a few laughed in agreement.

The dragon looped around again, and this time Juska got a shot directly at its face. This made it scream in rage, and it turned to breathe at them–

_“_ **_FUS RO DAH._ **”

The dragon was knocked aside suddenly, skidding into the wall. Juska stumbled at the impact, reaching for the edge to stabilize her, but the stone was old and worn and gave beneath her hand. She felt herself falling, and tried to move her arms to brace herself.

“ _Juska_!”

When she landed on the stones below, she felt a sharp pain in her arm, a sharper pain in her head, and then darkness came just as the dragon began to roar again.


	17. Fandelmar

“Juska, please wake up,” Fandelmar said again, and then buried his face in his hands when she remained still and quiet on the bed. He had said little else as he had sat beside her for the past day and a half, waiting for some sort of change. As he waited, his mind kept darting back to the sight of her falling from the wall.

He had been down the stairs and at her side almost immediately, but she had already gone unconscious. Getting her into his arms and away to safety amidst the chaos of running people and roaring dragon had been a harrowing experience. The guards who had coaxed her up onto the wall in the first place had, of course, done nothing to help. They were too busy screaming and shooting at the giant lizard in the sky.

The Dunmer alchemist hadn’t even blinked when Fandelmar walked through the door holding Juska. As she asked what had happened, she had cleared a table to rest Juska on for examination. His back had screamed with relief when he placed her atop it.

Her arm had been broken, which the alchemist had set and splinted quickly and easily. She’d seemed much more worried about the growing lump on the back of Juska’s head. 

“You have coin?”

“Some.” Gods and Daedra, why had he had so much _wine_ over the past few days?

The Dunmer had moved for a wall of bottles and begun taking down potions. “You ever force-fed a potion to an unconscious person?”

“No,” he’d admitted.

She had uncorked a large bottle. “Go slow. Give her a chance to swallow. If she doesn’t swallow, stop and turn her on her side. Now open her mouth.”     

Fandelmar had obeyed, and she had begun administering the potion in tiny amounts. Juska hadn’t woken, but she had swallowed, and eventually the alchemist had gotten most of the bottle in her.

“If she doesn’t wake up tonight, give her another. If she _does_ wake up, have her take it herself. And keep giving her water.”

“Okay. Okay.” Fandelmar had nodded to himself as he collected the bottles. When the alchemist told him the cost, he’d handed over the last of his money. He’d been ten gold short, actually, but she had refused when he told her to open a tab.

“Get her in a bed as quick as you can. Don’t move her after.”

When he’d made it back to the inn, Neloth had nearly sprung over the counter to get to them.

“Azura’s grace! What happened?”

Fandelmar had moved for the stairs, and the innkeeper had darted ahead of him to open the door to their room. 

“She fell off the wall in the main square.”

Neloth’s lips had gone thin at that, but he helped Fandelmar get her onto the bed without a word, then saw himself out. 

He’d been alone in the room with Juska since. Sometimes he paced, and he had fallen asleep quite against his will once or twice, but mostly he sat and looked for any change. But even after he'd gotten the next potion in her, there had been been no difference that he could see.

“Juska, please wake up.” He took her good hand in his and pressed it to his lips. “Please.”

Fandelmar kept asking until the sun rose and his head grew too heavy to keep off of the mattress. Sleep won until a soft knock at the door jolted him back into wakefulness. He rose to answer it, and found Neloth, holding two plates of food.

“Any change?”

He shook his head. Neloth gestured toward their table with a plate, and he stepped aside to allow the innkeeper inside. 

“You need to eat. And when she wakes, she will, too.” He set the plates down and frowned over at the bed.

Fandelmar ran his hands through his hair. “Neloth. I used the last of our money for her medicine. I can’t hunt. I have—”

The innkeeper cut him off. “Worry about her for now. I’ve seen the two of you work. You’re good for it. Besides, I’m not kicking out an injured woman.”

He rubbed at his face and took a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Eat. Try to rest.” With that, Neloth saw himself out.

Fandelmar managed to eat half of his meal before he gravitated back over toward the bed. Juska, of course, had not moved. He sat back down in the chair and took her hand again. She probably needed more water, but he was absolutely terrified of her accidentally breathing it in.

“Gods. I said we were even. I didn’t need a chance to nurse _you_ back to health.” He ran his thumb along the back of her hand. “I don’t know how to do anything that would help you.”

He had been wanting to get her out of her armor, at least, but he had been so worried about jostling her and making everything worse that he hadn’t even tried. But… some of it could come off safely, he decided. The bracer on her good arm was simple to remove. Her boots, somewhat less so. It took him a few false starts to remove the furs on her legs, not out of any difficulty, but because it simply felt awkward. When he was done, he set her armor aside and carefully pulled the blanket up over her.

Juska looked more comfortable, at least, which made him feel a bit better. Fandelmar sat back in the chair and looked her over, still seeking any sign of change. Her hair was loose and slightly tangled, and after a moment’s consideration he pulled it away from her neck so that her skin could get some air. 

Her lips were slightly chapped. She did need more water. Fandelmar braced himself for the process and began pouring carefully from the cup he’d kept at the bedside. Thankfully, she swallowed each sip with no problems.

After he set the cup aside, he took her hand again. Now he really _had_ done all that he could, and all that was left to do was wait patiently. He had been excellent at that before Markarth, but now that everything in his life was so uncertain, he found it difficult to maintain the faith he’d once had that every bad situation would eventually pass. He found himself reciting a prayer to Auri-El in his home tongue, which he had not felt the need to do for the past several decades. Since losing his family to daedra, he'd had little faith in the gods. 

Fandelmar kept praying until his eyes grew heavy, and then rested his head on the bed and gave in to the brief respite from his worries that sleep was so tantalizingly offering.

  


When he woke, there were fingers in his hair, gently brushing through it where it fell behind his ear. He had a brief, sleepy moment of calm before his mind woke fully and he realized what the fingers meant.

_"Juska_.” He lifted his head, and met her eyes. Gods, she was awake.

“Hey.” Her pupils were slightly dilated, but she was focusing on him.

“How— how are you feeling?” 

“Head fucking hurts,” she said. 

When she reached her hand to feel at the back of her head, he stopped her gently. “Stay still. You hit your head when you fell.”

Juska’s brow furrowed. “I fell?”

“Yes. The crazy screaming Breton yelled the dragon into the wall, and you were knocked off.”

“I… I remember the dragon. I shot it in the face, I think.”

Fandelmar laughed despite himself. “You _would_ shoot a dragon in the face.”

She smiled at him. “Yeah. Next time, though, I think I’ll just let the guards do it.” She lifted her broken arm and inspected the splint. “No wonder my arm is killing me.”

“Are you hungry? Do you need water?”

“No. I feel a little sick.”

He sat back and ran his hands through his hair. “We need to get you something for the pain. I used the last of my money. Gods.”

She pointed at the bedside table. “I have some. In the drawer.”

Fandelmar rummaged through the drawer until he found her coin purse. “Will you be alright if I step out?”

Juska started to nod, then winced. “Yes.”

“I will be right back. Don’t sleep.”

He nearly left without putting a shirt on, but the cold air from downstairs on his chest when he opened the door reminded him in time. 

Neloth looked up when he entered the main room. “Any change?”

“She is awake. I'm leaving to get her something for her pain.”

“Good idea. Alcohol probably isn’t the best choice after a head injury.”

Fandelmar nodded at this as he ducked out the door. As soon as the chill hit him, he realized that he had forgotten his cloak, but the alchemist wasn’t far, so he pushed on.

“She’s awake,” he said as he entered her shop.

His assumption that she would remember him proved correct, and he was gratified to see what looked like relief on her face as she glanced up at him. “Good to hear. What can I do for you?”

“She needs something for pain.” 

The alchemist nodded. “I wouldn’t recommend anything too strong. We don’t want her to go unconscious again. But….” She turned to her wall of bottles and began perusing them, tracking her progress with her index finger before plucking one down. “This one should be safe.”

“How much, and how should she take it?”

“Ten gold. I’d have her take a sip or two every six hours.” 

Fandelmar offered out fifteen gold, which was all of the money in the purse. “For last time.”

The alchemist shook her head and handed the five gold back. “Something tells me the two of you have bigger problems than owing me ten gold. You need it more than I do.”

He felt his cheeks color slightly, but he returned the funds to their pouch and picked up the bottle. “Thank you.”

Fandelmar wondered if he could convince Juska to start taking her alchemy lessons from the Dunmer alchemist rather than from that Imperial in the Stone Quarter. Considering her kindness since they’d come to town, it would be good of them to bring her more business in return. He decided to ask her about it when she was feeling more herself.

When he re-entered the room, he found her upright in bed, struggling to get out of the rest of her armor.

“Juska!” He paced over and took charge. “Hold out your arms.”

“This stupid splint,” she muttered, but obeyed all the same. Fandelmar unwrapped the furs from her chest and shoulders and set them aside, leaving her in her plainclothes. Once that was done, he uncorked the bottle and offered it out. “Try two sips and see how you feel in a bit.”

Juska sniffed it and made a face, but she took the sips as he requested. “Talos’ _tits,_  that is vile.”

“Most medicine is.” He took the bottle from her and set it aside. “Drink some water to wash it down.”

“You’re sweet when you’re worried.” She smiled at him, but her pupils were still a little too dilated for it to affect him with its normal contagious charm. So he silently offered out a cup of water, and watched as she slowly drank it down.

“I was not ‘worried,’” he said once she was done and he was helping her lie back down. “I was absolutely beside myself.”

She frowned up at him as he pulled the covers over her. “No, come here.”

He sat on the side of the bed with her good arm. Juska sighed at this, and then pulled on his arm until he was laying beside her. Once he was down, he felt the tiredness that he had been fighting off finally seep through him.

“You look exhausted,” she said, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “How long was I out?”

“Two days.”

“Fuck. I think I’ll leave the guarding to the guards from now on.”

Fandelmar sighed. “Good.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t know how useful I’m going to be for the next while. I can’t hunt with my arm like this. It'll fuck with the bow string.”

He rose onto one elbow and gently kissed her forehead. “Let me worry about keeping a roof over our heads. You just focus on uncracking yours.”

“Okay.” She yawned. “I am _really_ tired.”

“Try to stay awake a bit longer.” He had vague memories of a healer trying to keep him awake as long as possible the last time he’d received a head injury.

“Entertain me?” Her good hand reached for one of his, and her fingers threaded through his. 

He thought for a moment. “...Would you like to hear the story of how I hit my head so hard when in training for the Thalmor that I temporarily forgot my name?”

“Gods. Maybe.”

“Misery loves company, Juska.”

She gave a soft giggle. “Fine. Regale me, Fandelmar.”

He squeezed her hand, and began the tale. When she asked for more stories from when he was younger, he obliged, and as a result managed to keep her awake until dinner. Neloth brought them up plates again, and this time Juska managed to eat a bit. Fandelmar devoured his plate like a starving man.

Juska hadn’t died. Fandelmar wouldn’t have to wait out this nightmare alone. In fact, he was beginning to hope that there was a chance the two of them could face what was coming as a pair, not simply because they were stuck together in a bad situation, but because they wanted to be together. His reaction to her latest injury had made it clear to him that he wasn’t simply here to avoid being alone.

But, those thoughts could wait until she was healed. He took Juska’s plate from her once she had finished, helped her back into bed, and then lay beside her until she fell asleep. 

Trusting that she would wake in the morning made it much more simple to slip away after her.


	18. Juska

Fandelmar was gone again, and this time it was Juska’s fault. She was the one who had wanted to go fight the dragon and fell off a fucking wall, and now she was the one stuck in the inn recovering while he left to earn money.

Neloth could have been very mean about the situation, considering she was no longer bringing him in meat as per their deal, but he had agreed to open a tab and accept gold for each night they stayed while she was unable to hunt. When Fandelmar had come upstairs to tell her this, she’d nearly cried. Her stupidity had gotten her hurt, yes. It had worried Fandelmar, yes. But it hadn’t cost them shelter. 

This whole mess had put their situation into new perspective for Juska. They were hiding, but they also needed to take care of themselves, and they were barely scraping by together. What would she have done if Fandelmar had left once they arrived in Eastmarch? 

Fuck.

Juska was sick of the inn room. Fandelmar had suggested she speak with the alchemist in the Grey Quarter about lessons while he was gone, since she had been so nice about taking care of Juska while she was out, but she wasn’t in the mood to learn for the moment. Instead, she fumbled into her pants and made for the temple to Talos.

When she entered the main square along the way, she stopped cold at the sight before her. Near the wall she’d fallen from lay a massive pile of bones and scales. Around it, a throng of guards and townspeople were working to clear the mess. It looked like they were taking the whole skeleton, bone by bone, out the main gate and throwing it into the water below the bridge. 

So the dragon hadn’t survived, then. But where was the _meat_? She wandered closer and bent to inspect one of the scales that surrounded the skeleton in a ring. It looked like the dragon had just… disintegrated. Had the Dragonborn done this to it?

Juska lifted the scale she’d been inspecting. It was the size of a shield, and the edges were very sharp. She held it carefully and made her way back to the inn with it, setting it against the wall under the window in their room. A trophy to remember that disaster by. Even if she hadn’t killed it, she _had_ shot it in the face, and that had to count for something.

After that, she actually managed to make it to the temple. She prayed for her family, as usual. She prayed for Fandelmar, as always. And then, for the first time in her life, she prayed for some _sense_ for herself. Ma had always said she took after her father in that respect. Considering the mess she was in now because of her and Pa’s stupidity, she had to admit her mother had probably been right.

After doing her due diligence with Talos, Juska wandered the Stone Quarter, looking for one of the morning gate guards to see if she could learn how the fight with the dragon ended. She spent half an hour searching, but it proved fruitless.

Ugh. She didn’t want to go back to the inn. She was sick of playing cards, and too poor to drink to dull the lingering pain in her arm. Juska took a deep breath and returned to the Grey Quarter to seek out the alchemist like Fandelmar had wanted her to. 

It took some wandering, but she eventually found the woman’s shop. Her name, as it turned out, was Ruvene, and she remembered Juska on sight. They spoke about training her, and worked out a deal similar to the one she’d had with Quintus: if she brought reagents, Ruvene would teach her how to use them.

“What do you want to focus on?” the alchemist asked.

“Healing potions,” Juska said. “The stronger, the better.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Ruvene rummaged under the counter for paper and quill and began scribbling down a short list. “Bring me these.” She handed the paper over. 

Juska studied the list. “Yeah. I can do this. It might take a couple of days, though.” She had promised not to leave town while Fandelmar was gone.

“Take your time. You’re still recovering.”

Which was true. She hadn’t wanted to tell Fandelmar, but she kept dealing with waves of nausea, and bright lights and loud sounds sometimes felt like they were impaling her brain through the ears. And she got tired very easily, which was why once she was done at the alchemist, she headed back to the inn to take a nap.

“Fandelmar is upstairs,” Neloth said as she walked in the door. 

Juska beamed, and then she saw the face he was making. “Shit,” she replied, and bolted up the stairs.

Fandelmar was standing unarmored at the wash basin, carefully dabbing at his cheek with a damp cloth. When he saw her in the mirror, he smiled, and then hissed in pain.

“Let me see.” She moved closer, and he lowered the cloth, revealing a long, thin gash that ran from cheekbone to jaw on the right side of his face.

“Dagger,” he said by way of explanation. 

It hadn’t cut _through_ his cheek, thank the Nine. It had missed the artery. It wouldn’t need stitches, but it was definitely going to scar. Juska’s voice cracked when she spoke. “Gods, Fandelmar. Your poor face.”

He frowned down at her as she cupped his uninjured cheek in her hand. “It’s fine, Juska.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s my fault.” She leaned in and pressed her face to his collarbone. Gods. He smelled good. 

His hands moved to her shoulders, and his long fingers squeezed her gently. “Juska. Look at me.” 

When she lifted her head and met his eyes, he ran a hand over her hair. 

“It's not your fault. Even if it was, it’s worth it.”

Juska stared at his gashed cheek, then back into his pretty green eyes. When his gaze dropped to her lips, she felt her pulse begin to race. Talos’ tits, she was going to kiss him again, wasn't she?

She didn't need to. This time, Fandelmar lowered his head and pressed his lips gently to hers. Juska's eyes closed heavily, but not before her fingers buried in the hair behind his ears, just like they'd itched to so many times over the past few months. He made a soft, breathy noise and rested his hands on her hips, pulling her to him. She rose up onto her toes in response, because there was an ache rapidly growing in her belly that demanded she get closer to him. Her tongue flicked against his lower lip, and when they parted for her, she deepened the kiss with a quiet groan. 

Fandelmar's fingers dug into her hips, but after a moment he hissed softly and pulled away. Juska opened her eyes to find him smiling ruefully. 

“My cheek did not appreciate that.”

Fuck. It was bleeding. “I'm such an idiot,” she muttered, and bent for the cloth where it had fallen on the floor. 

Fandelmar caught her wrist as she straightened. “Juska, stop. Not everything is your fault.”

“Okay. _Okay_ ,” she said again, and he released her wrist, which allowed her to press and hold the cloth to the side of his face. 

Fandelmar studied her while she waited for pressure to stop the bleeding, but didn't say anything else. Juska chewed on her lip and kept her eyes off his just in case the pulse in the pit of her stomach tried to make her kiss him again. 

“Fandelmar?”

“Yes?” The corners of his lips twitched upward, just like they had every other time she’d said his name.

“Why do we only kiss when our faces are fucked up?”

He started laughing, which she tried to cut off because she could feel his cheek flexing beneath her hand. 

“Because you _do_ prefer me bloody.”

After another pained hiss, he closed his mouth, but kept chuckling while wrapping his arms around her and holding her close against him. She took the opportunity to rest her head against his collarbone again and took a deep breath.

“I was coming in here to take a nap,” Juska said at last. She pulled the cloth away to inspect his cheek, and found that the bleeding had stopped. “Care to join me?”

Fandelmar nodded and let his hands ease their way down to her hips. “I could do that.”

She pulled back and began unlacing her trousers. Usually, he would turn away when she undressed, but this time he watched her step out of them. The ache in her belly returned with a vengeance, but she just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Shirt?”

He shrugged it off easily and draped it over one of their dining chairs. “Done.”

When he turned, the scars at his side and shoulder came into view, and before Juska was quite aware of what she was doing, she had stepped close to him to run her fingers along the one above his hip. The skin was smooth and hard below her fingertips. It would feel amazing under her tongue, she thought, and had to close her eyes against the imagery that summoned.

Fandelmar’s hip twitched away, and he took her wrist in his hand before looking down at her. “That tickles.”

“Bed,” Juska breathed. “We are going to bed.”

She moved for it without looking at him again, but he followed dutifully behind her. When she curled on her side, he pressed up against her back as usual. Afterward, though, he pulled the neck of her shirt to one side and pressed a small kiss to her shoulder.

It took a little while for her to feel tired again, but eventually the heat and weight of his body against her became soothing instead of tantalizing, and she drifted off in his arms. 

****

 

The next morning, Juska woke at dawn out of habit, and Fandelmar rose with her. After he went downstairs and settled their tab with his earnings, she joined him for breakfast.

“What should we do today?” he asked as he had a sip of tea.

Juska pulled out her list of reagents that Ruvene had given her. “I think we should gather ingredients to make you a potion.”

Fandelmar started to smile, but caught himself in time. “I admit, it would be nice to have a full range of emotion.”

“I thought so.” 

She focused on her food so that her stupid mouth wouldn’t say the other thing she was thinking: _maybe you’ll kiss me again and it won’t hurt._  

After breakfast, Fandelmar put on his cloak, and they stepped out into Windhelm together. It took them longer to leave the Grey Quarter together than it would have for Juska alone, because Fandelmar was greeted by several of the Dunmer as they walked down the streets.  

Once they reached the main square, he was greeted yet again, but not by anybody either of them were happy to see: the snarling guard stepped directly in front of them as they made for the gate.

“Nice sword, elf.”

Fandelmar pulled his cloak over the sword at his side. “Thank you.”

Juska tried to go around the guard, but he side-stepped with her. “Looks like a Thalmor blade to me.”

“Or any elf’s blade, really,” Fandelmar said. “The style is common.”

“Not out here, it’s not. No local smith made that.”

Juska licked her lips. “Have we done something, sir?”

The snarling guard continued glowering at Fandelmar. “I think so. Not sure yet, though.”

“Okay. We’re going.” Juska took Fandelmar’s hand and began pulling. He stepped with her, and this time the guard let them pass.

They said nothing until they were across the bridge and into the wilderness surrounding the city.

“If anybody is going to sell me out, it will be that guard,” Fandelmar murmured, looking over his shoulder toward the city.

She looked up from a plant she was harvesting. “‘Sell you out?'”

He sighed through his nose. “Thalmor themselves may not be welcome in the city, but I don’t expect Rumion or Ondolemar to be above using mercenaries to get inside.”

Juska felt a surge of anger. “When were you planning on sharing this little tidbit with me?”

“...I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Fandelmar, we _need_ to be worried. We’re not just living our lives, here. We’re actively hiding from most of Skyrim.”

He ran a hand over his face. “I know.”

“So don’t keep shit like that from me!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Talos’ tits. Maybe we shouldn’t even _be_ in a city. It might be safer just to live in the wilderness for a while.”

Fandelmar shook his head. “I don’t think it’s as bad as all that. Besides, I heard that the Dragonborn has sided with the Stormcloaks. It is going to become more and more difficult for my brethren to be in Skyrim.”

_And for you._ Juska chewed on her lip. “Alright. But next time we have spending money we’re getting our packs ready so we can just leave if we need to.”

He nodded, and she caught him running his fingers over the shirt covering the scar at his side.

All chances for the morning to be pleasant had fled when the snarling guard approached them, so Juska gave up and continued looking for the plants they needed in silence. Fandelmar followed after her, but his eyes were distant, and he didn’t speak again.


	19. Fandelmar

Fandlemar woke to find Juska still asleep in his arms, which was unusual. He took a deep breath and pulled her closer to better enjoy her warmth, and was rewarded with a grumpy-sounding grunt and some nuzzling.  

He pressed his forehead to hers and ran his fingers through her hair. “Juska.”

Her eyes opened, though they were still lidded heavily from sleep. Even in the dim light of the room, they still seemed very blue.

“Good morning.” 

Juska placed her hand on his cheek and gave him a small smile. “How’s your face?”

He ran his tongue along the inside of it reflexively. “Much better. Is the wound closed?”

She lifted her hand to inspect it, then gently ran a finger along the line of the wound. “Just a scar now.”

“Good.” He reached up and took her hand in his. “Will you still kiss me even if it has healed?”

Juska grinned and rose onto her elbow, making it so that he had to shift to his back to keep eye contact. Her hair fell around them as she leaned in close. When her lips met his, he let his eyes shut in order to savor the moment appropriately. She kissed confidently, and soon he was letting her lead them. When her tongue sought his, he buried his fingers in her hair and held her against him.

She paused for a breath and then shifted atop him, straddling his middle and showing off a great deal of muscular thigh. When she leaned down to kiss him again, he slipped his hands up the back of her shirt. She felt strong beneath his fingers, just like he’d expected that she would. He eased his hands down toward her hips, and she moaned against his mouth.

By the time she broke the kiss again, he was breathing hard. He took a moment to pause, but she moved her attention to his ear, making him groan in earnest.

He tightened his hold on her hips. “Juska.”

“Mmmm?” Her tongue slipped down his neck toward his shoulder blade, then trailed along it until she reached his scar.

“ _Juska._ ”

This time, she looked up at him. Her pupils had dilated, and her face was slightly flushed. “What?”

Fandelmar took a deep breath. “We should, we should get breakfast and start the day.”

Her lips brushed against his neck. “Are you sure?”

Gods, no. No, he was not. When he felt her teeth on his shoulder, he became even less sure. “Juska, please,” he breathed.

She sat up and looked down at him. He caught himself circling his thumb against the skin of her hip and turned the motion into a slow caress. 

“What’s wrong?”

He licked his lips. “Be patient with me.”

“I’m really bad at being patient.”

He eased a hand along the top of her thigh. “Is there a reason to rush?”

Juska’s hand began to reach behind her, and he caught her wrist with a hiss. She smiled down at him. “That felt like a reason to me.”

He must have made a face, because she sighed, then leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Okay.” She slipped to his side, and he rolled to face her and drape an arm over her waist.

“Thank you.”

She chewed on her lip. “Is everything okay?”

Fandelmar nodded. “I… haven’t been with someone I care about in quite some time.” The occasional tryst with his fellow Thalmor over the years had certainly not qualified.

“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed, and she smiled.

He kissed one of her cheeks and smiled back. “That’s all. I’d like to take my time, and learn what you like.”

She laughed a little. “I like _you._ ”

“And you will like me better when I know best how to make you groan.” 

When Juska groaned in frustration, he laughed and gave her a quick kiss. 

“I’m getting out of bed,” she said, and rolled away from him. 

He rose onto his elbows to watch her dress. Actually… now there was a thought. “Is the grey dress clean?”

She looked up at him and hauled her shirt over her head, revealing more of her soft, pale skin and stomach, which his fingers were begging to touch. He silently thanked the gods for her underclothes as he waited for her to reply.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Would you wear it today?”

She walked for their wardrobe and pulled it out. “Sure. Do I get to dress you, too?”

“You have already.” He stood, slightly awkwardly, and picked his shirt off its chair. “All of my shirts are green.”

Juska spent a moment pulling the dress over her head and settling it against her hips. “If I had my way, though, it would be no shirt.”

Fandelmar smiled at her. “Then any time we are in the room, it will be off.”

She stepped over to him. “Can I touch you?”

Just as it was getting easier to walk. “Of course.”

Her hands ran along his shoulders. “I like the way you look. You have very pretty skin.”

“That surprises me. You used to not like it.”

Juska gave his shoulder scar a small kiss. “No, I always liked it. I just thought I wasn’t supposed to.”

He kissed her forehead. “Understood.” She stepped away, and he pulled his shirt over his head. “Shall we go get breakfast?”

She nodded. “I’m fucking _starving._ ”

Fandelmar gestured toward the door, and they walked for the stairs together.

The mood in the main room of the inn was a rather intense change from the mood in their room. The patrons were huddled together around their tables, talking in hushed voices. When Neloth brought over their breakfast plates, Juska asked him what was going on.

“There was another murder last night. They found her at sunrise.”

Juska took her plate while looking horrified. “Oh, sweet gods.” 

“And they still have no idea who it is?” Fandelmar asked as he took his.

Neloth shook his head.

“Fuck,” Juska muttered. “That is so scary.”

“It does not make me happy about needing to leave town in order to work,” Fandelmar said.

“About that,” Neloth replied. “You might want to head to the New Gnisis Cornerclub and ask after a Bosmer there. He’s looking for help, and I think it’s local.”

“Thank you, Neloth. I’ll do that.”

When the innkeeper walked away, Juska began picking at her plate. “That’s good. I want you close.”

“I will head over after breakfast.”

“I’m going to track down more reagents, I think. I might not be able to hunt, but I can at least keep us in potions for the next time one of us gets injured.”

Fandelmar swallowed a bite of potato. “You should use one for your arm, Juska. The sooner the both of us are whole, the safer we will be.”

She rubbed at the splint clearly visible beneath the bunched sleeve on her arm. “You’re right. Okay. I’ll do that. My instinct is to hoard them for you, though.”

“Which is appreciated, but I miss meat with my dinners.” 

Juska scoffed at him, and he chuckled.

The two of them split up after breakfast, and Fandelmar went to the tavern as Neloth had suggested. The Bosmer was easy to find, because he was the only one of his kind in the room, and also the only one drinking so early. Fandelmar approached to introduce himself, but when the Bosmer spotted him, he screamed. That stopped Fandelmar in his tracks.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he managed after a moment. “My innkeeper told me you’re looking for some help.”

The other mer clutched at his chest and took a deep breath. “You’re not a Thalmor? I thought you were a Thalmor.”

Fandelmar licked at his lips. “No. Just a sword for hire, looking for work. My name is Fandelmar.”

“Malborn,” the Bosmer managed. He took a long drink, then continued. “Sorry. I used to work at the Thalmor Embassy until the Dragonborn blew through and I got caught up in shit I had no business doing.”

Fandelmar paused to absorb all this. He didn’t recognize Malborn, which was good, because it hopefully meant Malborn wouldn’t recognize him.  “What was the Dragonborn doing at the embassy?”

 “The less you know about that, the better,” he replied. “But I’ve got Thalmor assassins after me now. I wanted to head for Morrowind, where I’d be safe, but they caught up to me too quickly and now I can’t even leave the city.”

This was hitting ever more uncomfortably close to home. “Do you know what they look like?”

“It sounds paranoid,” Malborn said, “but there’s this Khajiit with the caravan outside the city that’s just a little too interested in what I’m doing. It seems like he’s there, watching me, every single time I try to leave. If you look into it, and take care of him if he really is after me, I’ll pay you 200 gold.”

Gods. That much coin could solve a lot of problems. Fandelmar nodded. “I can do that.”

He left to return to the inn to get kitted up, wondering about Neloth sending him Malborn’s way. Was this a quiet message that the innkeeper knew his situation, or just a very unlucky coincidence? Either way, Fandelmar was not appreciative of how closely he was related to this problem. 

At least he knew that he wouldn’t leave the city today only to find assassins of his own waiting. Rumion would want him brought back alive. Juska, however…. He would need to warn her tonight to be careful. Hopefully she would make another potion today and get her bow arm in working order once more. Neither of them could safely afford not to be at their best.

Once he was in full armor, Fandelmar made his way for the gate to see if he could track down this Khajiit that was causing Malborn so much worry. He had just made it into the main square when that terrible guard came into view. Their eyes met, and the man began walking toward him, grinning in a way Fandelmar didn’t like.

“Elf!” The guard came to a stop in front of him.

“Sir?” Fandelmar laced the word with a hint of sarcasm.

“Have fun last night?”

“I beg your pardon?”

The guard’s grin faded. “I’m asking you where you were last night.”

“At the inn in the Grey Quarter, as usual.”

“ _All_ night?”

“Yes. May I go?”

“That depends on where you’re going, and what you plan on doing when you get there.”

_I’m off to kill a Khajiit_ was not the appropriate response here. “Just doing some shopping out at the caravan.”

“Even your money is too good for those cats,” he muttered.

“Have a good day,” Fandelmar said as he stepped around the guard. Thankfully, the man let him pass. 

Fandelmar had seen the caravans as they came and went from Windhelm, but didn’t know the regular members by sight, so nobody struck him as odd when he arrived. It would have helped if Malborn had given him a description. So, he did the next best thing and began asking if anyone new had joined the caravan recently. Most of the members were close-mouthed, which he expected. Thankfully, one of them seemed to have gotten into a fight with the outsider, and gave him up readily when asked.

He approached the armored Khajiit who was standing off to one side, watching the bridge into the city. He turned to face Fandelmar, and snarled slightly. “What do you want, elf?”

Fandelmar decided to hope that the assassin wouldn’t be interested in subtlety. “I have a message from Malborn,” he said, watching carefully for signs of recognition. 

When the Khajiit immediately attacked in response, Fandelmar dodged and readied his own blade. As he defended himself, he glanced for signs of guards nearby, but there were none. Good. 

Interestingly, he had less trouble with this assassin than he'd had with the bandits and thieves of his last few trips, and so made it out of the fight unharmed. Once the Khajiit had fallen, a quick inspection of his body revealed a small amount of coin, and a letter from the Thalmor detailing what they wished done to Malborn. He pocketed that just in case the city watch asked questions later. The entire caravan had seen the assassin attack first, but Fandelmar suspected that would not be defense enough here. 

On his way back to the tavern, he was waylaid by a very stressed-looking Dunmer with a bruised face. 

“I saw you talking with Thorgold earlier,” the mer said. 

Fandelmar assumed he must mean that awful guard. “Yes. He has been a nuisance since I came here.”

The other mer stepped in close and lowered his voice. “He keeps harassing us. Threatening to jail us if we don't pay him, drinking too much and using us as training dummies.”

“I could see him doing all of those things.”

“If you dealt with him, I'd pay you well.”

...Ah. “Unfortunately, since he is a member of the guard here, there is nothing I can do. Your best bet is to report him to the Jarl.”

The Dunmer looked unimpressed. “You and I both know how that would go.”

“I'm sorry. I can't help if it means breaking the law.”

The other mer shook his head. “I'll figure something out. Thank you for your time.”

The rest of the walk to Malborn was uneventful. The Bosmer looked cautiously relieved to hear his problem was taken care of. Fandelmar offered to walk him as far as the stable, which he readily agreed to. They made it there without issue, and after glancing around, Malborn agreed that the assassin was no longer in sight. He paid Fandelmar, and then fled for the road. 

When he returned to the inn, he found Juska removing her splint at the dining table in their room. “I took a potion. It's a little weak, but it's healed.” 

“Good.” Fandelmar proceeded to catch her up on the Malborn business. “Be careful when you leave the city, Juska,” he concluded. 

She nodded solemnly. “I will.” After moving to his side, she began helping him out of his armor. “Want to get a celebratory drink now that we're both whole again?”

Fandelmar shook his head. “I have decided that spending my money on alcohol is unwise.” 

Juska chewed on her lip and set his chest piece aside. “That's understandable.”

Once he was out of his armor, he removed his shirt and stepped in close to her. “I could be convinced to celebrate in other ways.”

“Oh?”

He bent his head to kiss her. “I'd love to feel your skin beneath my fingers.”

“ _Gods_.” Juska pulled him for the bed hard enough to make him laugh. 

This time, she let him lead. This time, she didn’t push him. And so, he made good on his promise of making her groan, and relished the fact that he could touch her at all.


	20. Juska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is AO. No going back now, folks.

Juska woke without warning some time in the late night. The fire had burned low, and the room outside of their blankets felt cool against her skin, which meant that it was probably snowing. At her back, Fandelmar lay curled against her, one arm over her waist as usual, keeping her close and warm. She shifted, intending to press back against him for comfort, and was surprised to feel his other arm come up between them to keep her from moving closer.

“Fandelmar?”

“You’re awake,” he said. His voice was soft, but almost sounded hoarse. 

She paused for a moment, listening to his breathing. Steady, but heavy. Over the past couple of weeks, that sound had become familiar to her. On a hunch, she rolled her hips, pressing her ass back toward his hips, and was rewarded with a harsh intake of breath and the feel of him rigid and warm against her.

“I’m not the only one awake.”

His breath fluttered against her neck as he replied. “I woke up in a mood. I apologize.”

Juska nearly groaned in frustration. Two weeks since they had first kissed, and she had yet to get in his pants, despite the fact that he very clearly would enjoy it if she did. She reached back for his hip and pulled, bringing him soundly against her. 

“I’m not bothered,” she said.

Fandelmar’s fingers dug into her hip as if to stop her from doing that again, then tugged, pulling her even closer to him. She finished the motion with another rock backward and didn’t bother stifling the way the feel of him twitching against her made her whimper.

“Juska,” he murmured against her neck. He followed her name with a slow lick from the lobe to the curve of her ear. 

She gasped his name, and his fingers dug into her hip again in response. Then, blessedly, they slipped under the hem of her shirt, trailing slowly upward toward her chest.

“This is alright?” His voice was lower and hoarser than before.

“Gods, yes, _please_ _,_ ” she said.

His hand finished its trip upward, slipping beneath her undergarments and cupping a breast firmly. Juska moaned, painfully aware of how relieved the sound was, but also knowing that the sound would be encouraging to Fandelmar. His tongue pressed to her neck, working its way to her shoulder, moving in time with the hand at her chest. Her fingers, which were still at his hip, dug hard into the cloth of his trousers as she groaned again.

Fandelmar’s other hand slipped between her side and the bed and made its way to her unoccupied breast. When Juska cried out again, he pressed himself hard against her ass with a low, throaty sound. 

“Shirt, shirt off,” she gasped, rising onto her elbow, and he obliged, tugging it quickly over her head and tossing it away. She was about to thank him when his mouth found the juncture of her shoulder and neck and began sucking gently. All she managed after that was another groan.

She kept her hand at his hip, squeezing and massaging, encouraging little rocking motions from him, as he made short work of her bra and sent it off into the darkness with her shirt. The combination of the cool air of the room and the heat of his skin made her twitchy, but her hips didn’t start bucking until his fingers found her nipples.

“Fucking gods,” she breathed, and Fandelmar answered with a light press of teeth to her neck. 

When her hips bucked again in response to the bite, one of his hands began a slow creep down her front toward her underwear, pausing only when his fingers had slipped just beneath the top hem.

“Yes?” he breathed in her ear.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” she said. 

He hadn’t asked to take things this far before. She couldn’t even lie to herself about how often she had imagined those long, gorgeous fingers of his doing this, but the feel of them in reality was so much better than her imagination had managed. They pressed down her front and between her legs without hesitation. When his middle finger parted her with almost embarrassing ease, her hips jerked hard. He responded by rocking against her ass again, and she encouraged this with a tug from the hand still clinging to his hip.

His fingers knew exactly what to do to make her writhe against him. The hand between her legs set a steady pace, and the hand at her chest kept her whining distractedly with each squeeze or flick of her nipple. And added to it all was the feel of him, rock hard against her ass, reminding her constantly of just where she wanted the rest of the encounter to go.

Eventually, the hand she had at his hip shifted and buried into his hair, but his hips kept moving against her in time with his hand. She grabbed a handful of his hair and began working hard against his fingers.

“I’m going to come,” she gasped.

His fingers blessedly kept doing exactly what they had been as he bit at her earlobe and replied, “Good.”

He had her reduced to a twitching, wailing mess within seconds, but his fingers stilled the instant sensation would have become too much. His hand pressed to her lower stomach, holding her against his hips, as she felt the world swing hazy and fuzzy for a moment.

“Oh, sweet gods,” she managed after a few breaths. 

Fandelmar pressed himself against her as he licked a slow trail along her bare shoulder. “Should I stop, Juska?”

She couldn’t stifle her groan in time, so she turned it into words: “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

He kissed her shoulder and let his hands slip free of her. “Turn this way.”

Juska rolled to face him and instantly pulled his face to hers, fingers buried deep in his hair, tongue seeking his, not letting up until they were both gasping. While she kept his mouth busy, his hands reached her underwear and tugged it down as far as they could. She kicked it off and let go of his face only so that she could get at his trousers.

“ _Off_ _,_ ” she commanded her sex-numbed fingers. Fandelmar helped by devoting his attention to her neck, but she eventually got the laces loose and was able to push his trousers down far enough for her to hook a foot in them and shove them the rest of the way. She was a bit more careful with his underwear, but their destination was no different.

Fandelmar grabbed her leg and hitched it over his hip before drawing her into another kiss. She could feel him, hard against her thigh, and the combination of that sensation and his tongue reduced her to whimpering, quivering need. 

“Please,” she breathed. 

He held her leg steady against his hip and pressed upward, entering her easily, and ending several months of longing as they met. Her cry was louder than she expected, but underneath it she could hear him muttering something in his language. 

She needed as much of him within her as was possible, her mind demanded, so her hips worked to make that a reality, pressing down against him firmly, and making them both groan again. This caused him to thrust back, and soon they had a rhythm going. Not hard, like a small voice in the back of her head was insisting it should be, but deliciously, toe-numbingly steady.

Juska dug her nails into his chest and focused on getting Fandelmar to make noise. Groans were nice. More words she didn’t understand were even better. She managed both with a combination of hips, teeth, and tongue, and soon the hand that had been resting on her thigh was digging into her ass, pulling her closer against him each time his hips pushed toward hers.

“Oh, _fuck!_ ” She pressed her face into his collarbone and dug her nails into his back for leverage.

Fandelmar responded by rolling onto his back, bringing her with him easily and holding her steady by the hips as she adjusted to the shift. The blankets fell away from them, pooling around their legs, and the chill air of the room met her sweat-dampened skin and caused a pleased shiver to run through her body.

He looked up at her and smiled faintly. “I want to watch you to finish again.”

Words should not be able to make her make her whimper with need. Juska reared back, curving her back and bracing herself on her hands, and got her hips moving again. Fandelmar kept his eyes on her, watching raptly, and had his fingers circling just above where they were joined seconds after she’d set the pace.

She was vaguely aware that she was looking down at him and saying words, but she was utterly unsure of what the words were conveying. Her entire body felt good, and the demanding, all-consuming heat building between her hips kept her from caring about things like loudness, or coherency. When he started lifting his hips to meet her, she was sure she shouted, but all she could hear was the blood pumping through her veins.

Juska came again, harder than she ever had in her life. Her vision went white, and sounds grew even fainter. Her muscles went weak, and she slumped against Fandelmar’s chest, breathing hard. As she focused on breathing, his fingers ran lightly down her back, sending little shocks of sensation straight down between her hips with each caress.

Once she could see again, and think again, she leaned up to give him a kiss. With the desperation she’d been feeling earlier so thoroughly vanquished, she was able to keep it slow. It was vaguely impressive that Fandelmar did, too. Eventually, she got her hips moving again. When she tightened around him, she heard him curse for the first time since they’d met.

“Your turn,” she told him, and shifted from her knees to her heels so that she had better control. 

His hands found her hips, gripping hard, and suggested a pace which she was only too happy to follow. His eyes closed heavily and he rocked his hips up to meet hers with deep, throaty gasps. His hair was fanned out around him on the pillow and gods, he was fucking beautiful, she thought vaguely. Her beautiful, golden man.

Fandelmar gave a choked cry and pulled her down against him, pressing his arm into the small of her back to hold her close as he thrust up to meet her. She went tight around him again and was rewarded with a rapturous groan. As his pace went erratic, then frantic, she watched his face in fascination. He lifted his head to kiss her, tongue seeking hers needily, then sank back into the bedding as she felt him finish, leaving her warm and more satisfied than she had felt in a very long time.

Juska settled down against him, pressed her ear to his chest, and listened to his heartbeat while she focused on getting her breathing under control. Fandelmar’s hands roamed over her back, petting her gently, as they both came down. 

Once her breathing had steadied, she was hit with a wave of sleepiness, so she slipped off to his side and began pulling the blankets back up around them. Fandelmar held out an arm, and she nestled against his chest as usual. 

He was asleep within minutes, and she wasn’t far behind. 

 

When Juska woke in the morning, he was still asleep against her. She pulled back slightly to see him better, and frowned when the scar on his face came into view. Yet again, the sight made her so guilty that her chest ached; if he’d never met her, he wouldn’t be collecting scars. They were visible proof that she had completely ruined his life, and yet he had never once complained.

She rolled away and moved to sit at the edge of the bed, taking several deep breaths in an attempt to collect herself. But Talos’ tits, she’d ruined her own life, too, one stupid decision at a time. If she’d just told her father why she knew the Thalmor were after him, and had been brave enough to face the consequences, Fandelmar’s grandfather would still be being cared for. But she’d been a coward, and now they were both fugitives with shattered families.

Crying quietly was hard, but she thought she was managing it until she felt a hand press against her mid-back. For some reason, this made her sob harder.

“Juska?” Fandelmar’s voice was as soft as ever.

When she kept crying, he rose and moved to sit beside her.

“Look at me.”

She managed to meet his eyes, and saw nothing but worry there. 

“Please tell me why you’re crying.” Horrified guilt flickered suddenly across his face. “Oh, Auri-El, if it’s because I—”

“No!” She took a deep, ragged breath and reached out to hold his hand. “This isn’t you. You never do anything wrong.”

“...Then I need a bit of help, here, because waking up next to a sobbing woman hours after sleeping with her is _not_ reassuring.” 

Juska wiped at her eyes. “I’m just guilty. I woke up, saw your scars, and got guilty.”

He exhaled through his nose. “The scars again?”

“How do you not _hate_ me?”

“Ah.” Fandelmar gave her one of his sober looks and studied her for several moments before he replied. “Nothing you do is malicious. You are one of the most earnest people I have ever met.”

“But I’m why we’re _here._ ”

The uncertainty returned to his face. “I appreciate the company. Do you not?”

She leaned slowly against his side. “No, I do. A lot.”

“Good.” Fandelmar put an arm around her. “I would be sad if....”

“I like you, Fandelmar. That’s why I’m so guilty. I’d care a lot less if I’d ruined the life of an asshole.”

He rose and moved for the washbasin, wet a cloth, and then came back. When he held it out, she took it and began wiping her face.

“Something to consider, Juska, is that I made choices that led us here, as well.” He settled against the bed and rested back on his hands. “Also, I can’t say I was particularly enjoying my life as a Thalmor. I was just passing time.”

“Are you ‘particularly enjoying’ your life as a fugitive?”

He frowned at her. “I would prefer not being a wanted man, but otherwise? It could be far worse.”

Juska licked her lips. “I think so, too.”

He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. “Then we will be okay.”

When he held out his arms, she leaned in to accept the offered hug. They were silent for several minutes before he spoke again. 

“And you’re sure this wasn’t because of the sex?”

Juska didn’t bother stifling a small groan. “The sex was fantastic. Gods, Fandelmar.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “See? I’d gotten an idea of what you would like.”

“You know what I’d like right now?”

“Hm?” He nuzzled at her ear.

“Breakfast.”

Fandelmar laughed. “Then we should get dressed and go eat.” 

He rose from the bed and held out a hand, and she let him pull her to her feet. They got cleaned up and presentable, and headed down to the main room.

The other patrons were chattier than usual during breakfast, and they soon overheard that the Stormcloaks had taken Whiterun. This news made Juska so relieved that she felt light-headed for a moment. That was one more hold between them and the Thalmor. The knowledge made it easier to focus on work, at least for her.

Things actually went well enough over the next week that they found themselves with extra spending money. Juska finally got a sewing kit, though she had to get it from that Altmer in the Stone Quarter, which she didn’t like. Fandelmar got a cloak that fit him, and had a hood. He let her pick the color; she chose brown because it paired well with his skin and brought out his eyes.

They also began to fill their packs in case they needed to escape, though some of the urgency she'd been feeling had faded. It was stupid, but the Stormcloak victory at Whiterun made Juska feel safer.

Over the course of the next month, she and Fandelmar got back into their routine: she hunted every morning and had alchemy lessons most afternoons, and he took on a job about once a week. Except now there was sex, too. Gods, the _sex_. One hundred years of practice, paired with Fandelmar’s nearly infinite patience, often left her an incoherent mess. He always insisted on making her come twice. It was clearly a point of pride for him, and she wasn't complaining.

They had just cleaned up after an afternoon romp and were headed down to the main room to feed themselves when Juska felt reality hit again. As soon as she saw the faces of the patrons, she knew that something bad had happened. Neloth gave her the news when he passed over her plate.

“There’s been another murder.”

“For fuck’s sake,” she said. “What are the guard _doing_?”

Fandelmar shook his head. “I have wondered that since we came here.”

Juska’s question had been sarcastic, but the day decided to answer it anyway: they were just finishing their food when the door to the inn opened, and three Nords in guard armor entered. She recognized the one in front as the snarling guard who had been giving Fandelmar so much trouble.

“Oh gods,” she murmured to Fandelmar. “What do _they_ want?”

He frowned at them, then frowned harder as they made their way toward where he and Juska were sitting.

“Elf,” the snarling guard said. “We need you to come with us.”

Fandelmar leaned back in his chair and regarded them calmly. “Why?”

“We have a hunch that bringing you in will stop the murders.”

Juska bolted upward, shouting, “That is fucking _ridiculous!_ ”

The snarling guard stepped into her personal space. “Girls started dying right after he showed up. And he’s obviously got a taste for Nords.” He paired the words with a sneer and a roving glance. She felt her cheeks flush, but ignored the gibe.

“He wasn’t even in town when the first girl died!”

“Juska,” Fandelmar said.

The guard ignored him, so Juska did, too.

“On your word he wasn’t,” he retorted.

“And everyone here’s!” She gestured to the inn full of staring bystanders.

“A bunch of greyskins. Worthless.” The snarling guard reached to grab Fandelmar by the arm. Juska moved to intercept, but was halted by a hand at the small of her back.

“Don’t.” Fandelmar said. Then, he rose and stared down at the guards in front of them. “Gentlemen, I can walk myself. Lead on.”

Juska put a hand over her mouth and sank down into the chair Fandelmar had just left as they surrounded him and shoved him for the door. Then, when she realized how many people were just sitting there gawking at her, she fled for their room.

“Oh, blessed Talos, this is not happening,” she said to the air as she stood in the middle of the room. “Fuck, fuck, they did not just....”

But they had. Juska’s knees went weak, and she sank down onto Fandelmar’s side of the bed. The covers smelled like him, which made her tear up. She tried not to cry, but it was impossible. She was alone… and he was in so much danger.

Juska sobbed until she was numb, curled in a ball on the bed. The sun was down by the time she’d finished, and she was a red, puffy, and damp disaster. But with the numbness came an odd sort of clarity, and she realized she knew what to do to fix all this.

Because of the idiot guards, Fandelmar was in more danger. Because of the idiot guards, women in the city were _still_ in danger. So, she was just going to have to do what they should have been doing all along, and solve the murders herself. 

 


	21. Fandelmar

Fandelmar sat on the edge of the rickety wooden bed in his cell. He was tired, but he was disgusted by the filthy straw that was serving as the mattress beneath him, and he was also wary of the guards nearby. Since putting him in the cell a day ago, they had completely ignored him, but he knew better than to believe that would continue. As a former Thalmor, he had a very good idea of what the next few days of his life were going to be like. He was just waiting for the first blow to land.

The guards, for their part, appeared to be waiting for some sort of clearance to get to work on him. That was somewhat reassuring, because at least it meant that someone in a position of power above Thorgold knew he was here. While that posed its own problems, especially if Thalmor agents came asking for him, it meant he was less likely to be abandoned and forgotten down here. Auri-El bless the accountability caused by paper trails.

He felt his eyes lid heavily and rose to pace the cell. If his captors were anything like his former employers, they would be upon him the moment he fell asleep. It was simply delaying the inevitable, but Fandelmar knew that the pain would be easier to deal with if he were tired. Exhaustion had a numbing effect. A small part of him worried that they would make him confess to something he hadn’t done, and so he wanted all the assistance he could manage.

Boots on stone made him turn for the cell door, where he was met by the jailor, who offered out a cup of water. Fandelmar approached cautiously, half-expecting to get it thrown on him, but the man simply held it through the bars. When he took it and sniffed it, the jailor snorted, then turned to walk away.

It didn’t smell like piss, or poison. He tried a small sip, and found that it was plain water. His instinct was to down it, but he set it on the table beside his bed. There was no way of knowing how often he was going to receive food or water. He would need to ration.

The look on Juska’s face as he was led away from their table at the inn flashed through his mind unbidden, and Fandelmar resumed pacing. Everything had been going so well. Gods. They'd had weeks of normalcy. 

It occurred to him suddenly that if he'd done as that Dunmer had asked last month and taken care of Thorgold, he might not be in a cell now. No. Then he really would have been guilty of murder. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it back away from his face, and took a deep breath. As horrible as it was, he caught himself hoping that the murderer would strike again soon so that they would have to set him free. He saw no way of him getting out otherwise, and the longer he was imprisoned, the less likely it was that he would survive. The gallows, or his former employers, loomed large on his horizon, and now he was unable to flee.

The thoughts of Juska, and of his current closeness with death, made Fandelmar weary. He stopped pacing and slid down the wall onto the floor, facing the door to the cell. Resting his head against the wall, he sat and listened, but the boots he could hear remained out in the main room. His head began lolling forward periodically, and soon he could no longer fight sleep. 

 

Fandelmar was jolted awake by the sound of the cell door banging open. He looked up to find Thorgold and another guard grinning down at him. When he rose and looked down on _them_ , their grins faded into scowls.

“We need you to answer some questions,” said the Nord he didn’t recognize.

“Ask away,” Fandelmar said.

They asked if he killed the women, and he said no. They asked if anyone could account for where he’d been on the nights of the attacks, and he said yes. But just like back at the inn, Juska, Neloth, and the others weren’t good enough witnesses to prove his case. He told them what he had been doing when each of the women were murdered, but they kept making him repeat himself.

Finally, Thorgold seemed to have had enough. “Tell me, elf, did you enjoy cutting them open like they were animals? Your girl teach you how to butcher like that?”

“I had nothing to do with the murders,” he repeated.

Thorgold stepped forward, and Fandelmar had just enough time to tense his stomach muscles before the first punch was sent deep into his middle. The man was wearing gauntlets, and the force of the impact made him grunt and double over. The Nord stepped back, and Fandelmar forced himself to take a deep breath and stand straight despite the pain in his stomach.

“I’m going to ask you again,” said the Nord he didn’t know. “Did you kill those girls?”

“No.”

Thorgold punched him in the stomach again, and then grabbed Fandelmar’s head and kneed him hard once he had doubled over. White hot light filled his vision as pain bloomed between his eyes at the impact. He felt fire flicker to life in his hands, but forced himself to breathe until it faded. No matter how bad this got, he couldn’t fight back. It took a moment for the fire to die, but once it had, he stood back up and looked down at his captors once more.

They were eyeing each other warily. “He’s a fucking _mage,"_   Thorgold said.

The other Nord removed a set of manacles from his belt and handed them over. Both of them looked to Fandelmar, who simply held out his hands. 

Thorgold locked his hands together, and the other Nord gestured at the cell wall. “Hang him up.”

Fandelmar was walked back until he was against the wall, and then allowed Thorgold to raise his hands and chain the manacles to it, effectively trapping his arms over his head.

“Stand there for a while and think about what you’ve done,” snarled the Nord he suspected he was going to know quite well very soon. 

“I haven’t done anything,” Fandelmar replied.

Thorgold punched him in the stomach, and Fandelmar berated himself for baiting them as he breathed through the pain. 

“We’ll be back,” he said as he stepped for the door.

Fandelmar closed his eyes as they exited and locked his cell. First round over, and it could have gone much worse. Being chained to the wall was less than ideal, but he was neither dead, nor missing body parts. He blinked against the lingering spots in his vision and tried not to think about how much pain he was going to have felt before the end.

As time passed, and his shoulders began to ache, he found himself remembering his mother. He tried not to allow himself to think of her very often, but this time he saw no point in stopping. Considering he was chained to a wall in a jail cell in a strange place full of people who suspected him of murder, it was only fair that he would miss her. 

Fandelmar had taken after his mother in many ways, he knew. He was quiet like her, and he had her eyes and hair. If only he had inherited her knack for healing magic. She had attempted to teach him to heal himself many times before her death, but he’d remained abysmal at it.

Once, before his marriage to Arianwe, she had watched him fail to mend a cut from a splinter he’d gotten while loading crates onto a wagon. When the spell did nearly nothing, she had taken his hand and healed him herself.

“The magic works better when you love the person you’re healing,” she had told him.

Remembering this now made him laugh, a sound which was harsh and humorless as it echoed in his cell. It had taken him far too long to realize what she had been trying to tell him. At the time, he had simply thought she was speaking of herself. Once she was gone and he was alone, however, he’d realized that she had meant that comment to be about him.

His mother had been correct. His healing skills had only gotten worse after losing his family, and the guilt that came with having outlived them began to creep through his bones. Fandelmar certainly did not love himself for being the one who survived. He did not love himself for spending eighty-five years working alongside fanatics. He did not love himself for effectively abandoning his grandfather in his dotage because a pretty girl had asked him for help.

No. That wasn’t fair to Juska, or him. He had owed her. He had done the right thing. It had just resulted in the incorrect outcome.

Fandelmar tilted his head to look up at his hands, and willed healing magic to pool there. As expected, nothing happened. Gods, but his stomach ached. Fandelmar tried again, but with no success. Since there was little else to do, he kept attempting the spell.

Time passed, and he kept failing to heal his injuries. His captors left him at the wall until he was too tired to stand. Once he was sagged against it, shoulders screaming in pain and mind pleading for sleep, they returned. The same questions were asked, and he gave the same answers. This time, they beat him up against the wall, and he was too tired to tighten his stomach to protect from the blows. By the time they let him be, his left eye was swelling shut, and his abdomen felt like it had taken a direct hit from a charging goat.

The jailor came in, eventually, and let him down from the wall. Fandelmar collapsed onto his knees with a groan and didn’t even bother attempting to rise. 

“Water,” the man said, offering out a cup.

He took it and drank it thirstily, ignoring the ache in his jaw that began when he opened his mouth.

“Get some rest,” he said. “They’ll be coming back tomorrow.”

Fandelmar slumped to the side and let the cold stone of the floor distract from his aching body. The jailor took the cup and left him where he was, closing and locking the door with a sound that seemed hauntingly final to him.

That was the rhythm of what seemed like the next few days. Questioning, beating, hanging from the wall, more questions, more beating, being let down, being fed and watered, sleeping on the floor. They tried hitting him harder, and they tried keeping him from sleeping. But Fandelmar knew all of their tricks already, and so his answers never changed.

Then they started chaining him by the neck instead of by the wrists. He kept falling asleep on his feet and waking up choking at the end of the chain. When exhaustion hit and his knees kept buckling, it felt like he spent more time choking than not. But the jailor kept a careful eye on him, and always let him down before he strangled to death.

Each time Fandelmar was alone and coherent, he attempted to heal himself. Every time, it failed. He began thinking nearly constantly of his family, because it was proving impossible to shake the feeling that he was going to be joining them soon. 

Was his grandfather still alive? The hungrier he grew, the more he worried that he'd left the poor man to the same fate. But the rest of the town wouldn't have just let him starve, certainly. 

Gods, if only that _were_ a certainty. But there were times, when Fandelmar was cold and aching and barely conscious, where he caught himself hoping his grandfather had passed. This was the same part of him was encouraging him to simply accept his impending death. Better for them all to be waiting for him at the end of this. It dulled the fear.

But then he would think of Juska.

Fandelmar missed her gap-toothed smile. He missed the feel of her hair in his fingers when he was drifting, semi-conscious, beside her in bed. Thoughts like this would strengthen his resolve, because he didn’t want to leave her alone here. They worked well as a pair. They had the best chance of survival when they were together.

This was why he was very concerned that she would do something stupid while he was locked up. 

His family could wait. Juska was here now, and she needed him alive. When his captors brought in a bucket with a hole in the bottom and set it dripping on a chestplate in the cell beside him, he kept the thought in his head to distract from the constant sound of water hitting steel.

_I can’t die here. She needs me._

But as the sound continued, percussive and all-consuming, it worked its way into the very center of his mind and drove all other thoughts away. Sleep fled before it as well, leaving only the noise. He began to hope, in between the beats from the water, that they would just kill him and get all this over with.


	22. Juska

“Come on, you have to have seen something!” Juska tried keeping the frustration out of her voice, but it was hard.

Bjorni scowled. “Juska, I can’t help you with this. They keep me posted at the gates.”

“Which means you know when he was here and when he wasn’t!”

He lowered his voice. “Not if he came through at night. That’s Thorgold’s time.”

She rubbed at her face. “Gods. And nobody has said anything? No theories, nothing?”

“Yeah, there’s a theory. It’s the one you’re saying is wrong.”

This time she just growled her frustration. “ _Fine_. Have a good day.” Juska picked up her rabbits, hefting them across her shoulders, and began walking into the city to check in with Neloth. Everyone she’d asked was saying the same thing. How could so many girls be dead, but there be no trail to follow? It’s not like the killer was invisible; she’d seen him, after all. 

Fandelmar had been gone for two days. Nobody at the palace would let her in to see him, or give her any time at all, really. Juska crunched through old snow down the street to the inn, glowering down at her feet as she went. She had never imagined that people would be so unwilling to solve a murder.

Neloth frowned at her over the counter when she came in. She must have been making a great face, because he immediately said, “no luck?”

“None. Nobody’s fucking seen anything.” Juska pushed past him into the kitchen and laid the rabbits on the table he used for butchery. “Except some loudmouth passing out handbills, and she doesn’t know shit, either.”

Neloth stood in the doorway. “I will vouch for him, if it will help.”

Juska shook her head. “They don’t want to hear it. I already tried.”

They both went quiet for a moment. Juska felt tears threatening again, and quickly stepped out of the kitchen and back into the main room. She was so tired of crying. 

“I’m going to go pray.” She started up the steps to the room to change out of her armor.

“I pray for him, too,” Neloth said.

Gods. Her eyes were watering. “Thank you, Neloth. We appreciate it.”

She closed the door to their room and took a deep breath, again fighting back tears. Two days ago, this room had been wonderful. It had been starting to feel like home. Now, she didn’t want to spend any time in it at all.

Juska removed her armor and changed into her dress as quickly as possible, then ducked back out the door and headed for the temple to Talos. Her prayers over the past few weeks had been quick, but today she settled down on a bench and took the time to really commune with him for the first time since leaving Markarth.

 _I’m about to do something very stupid, and I’d appreciate it if you helped me not die,_ she began, closing her eyes and visualizing him in her mind like Pa had taught her. She apologized for praying about a High Elf yet again, but added that he was actually really nice, and didn’t think she was a heretic, so maybe he could make an exception. She also prayed for her family, all of whom she missed so badly it made her chest ache. 

_Please be okay, Sven. Please be okay, girls._

It was harder to wish Ma and Pa were doing well, but she still tried. And in response to this, she actually felt Talos, which almost never happened. Her skin grew light, and warm, and the ache and worry eating through her middle lessened somewhat.

He was listening, at least when it came to her family. And if they were okay, she could focus on getting Fandelmar back.

Juska rose and left a gold coin at the altar for the priests, then went to wander around the Stone Quarter. All of the murders had happened within it, at night. She stood in front of the places where each of the women had fallen, and thought about what she knew. They’d all been Nord women, though their hair colors had varied. They’d been out alone at night. 

And they’d all had parts of them taken. 

She ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath as she stopped at the edge of the Stone and Grey quarters, where she’d been followed by that person the night of the first murder. It was obvious that she was the killer’s type, which worked in her favor. Assuming she didn’t end up dead with parts of _her_ taken.

“You’re brave enough to do this,” she whispered to herself, then looked up at the sun. She had time for alchemy lessons, and time for dinner. _Then_ the time for utter stupidity would be upon her.

Juska walked back into the Grey Quarter, and headed for Ruvene’s alchemy shop. The Dunmer woman was expecting her, and smiled when she came in. 

“More healing potion work today?”

“No,” she said. “I’d actually like to make something to help me see in the dark?”

Ruvene blinked. “For hunting at night?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“It’s a simple enough potion, though the ingredients are quite expensive.”

Juska sighed. “Not worth it. Let’s continue with health potions, then. I think I’m getting better at distilling them.”

“You are.” Ruvene reached under the counter for the satchel that Juska used to keep the ingredients she brought in until they were needed. They moved for the alchemy table together, and Juska began the process of making a healing potion. She was getting better, and faster. Her mentor watched over her carefully, but this time she did everything right.

“You know, if you ever wanted to turn this into a career, I wouldn’t mind having you as an apprentice,” Ruvene said when Juska was packing her new potions away. “You could be very good one day.”

Juska looked up in surprise. She’d never even thought about becoming an alchemist. But it would probably pay better than hunting. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“Just something to keep in mind if you plan on sticking around Windhelm for a while.”

She nodded. “Thank you.” Two days ago, she probably would have said yes immediately, but everything felt too up in the air with Fandelmar gone.

With the potions completed, there was little else for Juska to do besides head back to the inn and have dinner. She asked Neloth for a plate and took it to her room to eat, because the sympathetic looks the other patrons had been giving her were driving her insane. It was nice that they cared, but she didn’t want to be constantly reminded of what had happened.

Once she’d finished dinner, she laid down on Fandelmar’s side of the bed and tried to rest. She was going to be up all night, probably, so she needed whatever sleep she could get. It took a while, but she finally started drifting once she started focusing on her breathing instead of the way the covers smelled like him.

 

Juska woke from her nap just as the sun was setting. She slumped off the bed and went to the washbasin to splash some water on her face. As she patted her face dry, she stared at herself in the mirror.

“Okay. Don’t die.”

She moved to the wardrobe and grabbed her boot knife, which she slipped into her shoe. She wanted to bring her dagger, too, but she was worried about looking like she could take care of herself. If this was going to work, she needed to look killable.

Though Juska suspected she already _did_ look killable, considering she’d been chased through the quarter once already. Still, it wasn’t worth the risk. If she did this right, not only would Fandelmar be exonerated, but she’d stop any other girls from being murdered.

Juska took a deep breath, and then walked out the door to her room. Neloth eyed her suspiciously as she entered the main area.

“You’re going out at night?”

She nodded.

“It’s not safe for you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she lied. “I’ll be back later.” And with that, she exited the inn.

The streets of Windhelm darkened rapidly, despite the guards lighting torches as they made their rounds. Juska hung to the Stone Quarter, walking a slow loop around the places where all the other women had died. A few of the guards warned her about being out alone over the course of the night, but overall the rarity with which she saw them was chilling. No wonder women had been dying: there were hardly any patrols at all.

The first night proved uneventful, but that did little to deter Juska. She went back out each night, and each night was horrified to find so few guards out on patrol. Occasionally she ran into other townspeople. If they were women, she walked them to their destinations. Every one of them was appreciative of the company.

No women died, but there was no sign of the killer, either. She saw no one lurking in the shadows, and heard no footsteps behind her as she roamed. But she kept going out, because Fandelmar needed her to. As the days passed, her schedule altered to make her completely nocturnal. She slept during the days, stayed out nights, and hunted in the morning before collapsing into bed and repeating the process. Sleep became more difficult, because Fandelmar’s smell was fading from the bedclothes. She wouldn’t let Neloth change the sheets, which was pathetic, but she didn’t care.

Almost two weeks passed before the walks around town went from harrowing to monotonous. Juska began to catch herself actually nodding off out of boredom and had to chide herself for becoming used to this new situation. 

Two nights later, she was at the edge of Candlehearth Hall when she caught someone lurking in the shadows at the edge of the wall. Immediately, she began humming, making sure the sound was just as sloppy as her footsteps, doing her best to seem as though she had just left from a night of heavy drinking.

It worked. Out of the corner of her eye, Juska saw the shadow begin to creep closer. Her heart began pounding so hard that it made hearing difficult. She was used to being the hunter, but in this case she was very much the prey, and her body was reacting accordingly. Every sinew in her wanted her to break into a run, but her mind kept screaming that if she ran, Fandelmar would be dead. 

If she waited too long, though, _she_ would be, too.

Juska focused on keeping her breathing normal and prayed to Talos as the shadow crept ever closer. Now she could hear his footsteps in the snow behind her, even over the rush of the blood through her veins. Step, step. _Keep humming_. Step, step. 

Finally, she sensed, rather than felt, the shadow arrive behind her and lunge. She hit the snow, and heard the whistle of a blade through the air above her head. Juska rolled, then threw herself at her attacker, and was surprised to find he went down easily into the snow. They struggled for a few seconds as he tried to stab her again, but she quickly overpowered him, digging her nails deep into his wrist until he dropped the knife with a howl.

“ _Help!_ ” She screamed loudly enough to make her throat hurt, and soon heard shouting and the sound of people running in armor. 

Soon, she was surrounded by guards with torches, and was able to look down at her attempted murderer. When she met eyes with a familiar old Breton, her jaw dropped. “You?” He was a shopkeeper, for gods’ sakes!

“Get off of me!” He struggled fruitlessly against her hold.

“What happened?” questioned one of the guards.

Juska rose and resisted the urge to vomit as adrenaline kept careening through her system. “I was out for a walk, and he attacked me!”

One of the guards knelt to retrieve his knife from the snow, while the others hauled him to his feet. They recognized him, as well, but to her relief responded to her accusation with little suspicion. Since she was soaking wet from rolling in the snow, and the shopkeeper wasn’t even bothering to protest his innocence, she supposed that made sense.

They brought him before the steward, and held him in manacles while guards were sent to search his house. Juska paced the main hall of the palace as they waited for them to return with news. The steward watched her impassively as she slowly looped the dining tables.

“How is it that you of all people were attacked tonight?” Clearly he remembered their earlier conversation. Not surprising, since she hadn't exactly been polite.

Juska frowned at him. “It was intentional. I’ve been bait for over a week."

“And how do I know you’re not just framing an innocent citizen?”

“Just wait and see what the guards find.” Meanwhile, she prayed and walked, hoping desperately that they _would_ find something.

A few minutes later, they returned, looking grim. Their leader was clutching a journal and a set of bloody tools. “Steward, take a look at this.”

He flipped through the journal, and Juska watched with a strange sort of glee as he grew progressively more pale as he turned the pages. “Gods. Get him in the dungeon.”

“And let out the man you’re holding for these crimes, maybe?”

The steward waved a hand dismissively at the head guard. “Set the High Elf loose.” 

The guards began to move for the dungeon, and Juska fell into step behind them. They grumbled, but they didn’t tell her to stay behind. As the adrenaline faded, she felt weak and wobbly, and strangely like crying. The entire palace closed around her tightly, and she desperately wanted to get back out into fresh air.

“Wait here,” one of the guards said, opening a door and shoving the shopkeeper into the gloom beyond. “We’ll bring him out to you.”

Juska chewed on her lip as she waited, blinking back tears, but found that she was unable to stop them once Fandelmar limped into view and squinted against the light. One look at him, and the sick feeling in her stomach told her that he’d gone through Oblivion during the time it had taken her to free him. He was filthy, and thin, and his golden skin was sallow from lack of sun and mottled with bruises everywhere it was visible.

Sweet gods, why hadn’t she been able to get him out sooner? He stumbled, and she surged forward to catch him as the guards ignored them both and returned to their duties.

"Juska?" His voice was hoarse. 

She ran a hand over his hair, then side-stepped and looped his arm around her shoulder in an old familiar motion. "Let's get you home."

He didn't seem entirely with her during the trip back to the inn. As they walked, she prayed that he was going to be okay, and chewed at her lip until it was raw. 


	23. Fandelmar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is (briefly) AO.

Fandelmar was silent on the slow walk back to the inn. His head was spinning, because when the guards had let him down from the wall and begun walking him out of his cell, he had assumed they were taking him to be executed. But now he was out in the cold, with his arm draped over Juska’s shoulders, trying to keep to his feet as he stumbled through the snow.

The inn was empty when they entered it, and the candles were put out. That didn’t stop Juska from pausing at the base of the steps to their room and calling for Neloth. Fandelmar flinched at the volume, and she immediately apologized.

The Dunmer appeared from his room a moment later, rubbing blearily at his face and wearing a long nightshirt. When he saw them both, his eyes widened. “Fandelmar!”

“He needs a bath,” Juska said. “Please. I know it’s late.”

“No, of course.” He began walking up the steps to their room. Juska got them going again, and they slowly followed after him.

When they entered the room, she lowered Fandelmar into one of the dining chairs. “Wait here.” Then, as Neloth began filling the bath with his magic, Juska began rummaging around the drawers. She was getting him clean clothes.

He stared vacantly around the room as they busied themselves, noting details that he’d begun to forget over the past few days. The dragon scale Juska had kept, for some reason. The deck of cards on the table.

Fandelmar buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath. How was it that he was back here?

“Let me know when it’s a good time to empty the bath,” he heard Neloth murmur to Juska. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen when he needs food.”

“Gods. Thank you,” she replied.

Fandelmar heard the door click shut, and then felt Juska’s hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Stand up so we can get these clothes off.”

He obeyed, standing automatically, and watched her after she pulled his shirt over his head and began to remove his trousers. There had been a tightness around her eyes since he saw her in the jail, and now her lips were pressed into a thin line as she brought more of his skin into view.

“I’m going to murder them,” she said, looking up at his face.

When he didn’t reply, she took his hand and began leading him toward the bath. He nearly slipped getting in, but Juska caught him and helped him ease down into the water. For the first time in what felt like an age, his skin was warm, and the heat of the water dulled the ache of his injuries somewhat. He closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to relax a bit.

Juska moved to kneel behind the head of the tub. “There you go. Dunk your head?”

He did so, wincing as the water made the cracks in his lips sting. When he came back up, she soaped her hands and began running them through his hair. Soon, he smelled the familiar scent of mint, and her fingers massaging at his scalp made his eyes close heavily once more.

Juska spent several minutes on his hair, soaping and re-soaping her hands multiple times, working the lather from the roots to the tips. Then, she spent time lightly running her nails against his scalp. Finally, she spoke again: “Back under.”

He submerged his hair, and her fingers fanned it out in the water, rinsing the soap clear. Once she was satisfied that it was clean, she gently guided him upward with a hand at the back of his head. 

“Can you sit up?”

Fandelmar tried. His ribs screamed in discomfort, but he managed it. They’d been aching long enough that he was used to the pain, in any case. Juska settled in beside him, washcloth in hand, and began lathering it. Once it was ready, she ran it along his neck, shoulders, arms, and back, using a gentle hand and muttering angrily every time she came across a bruise or welt. Sometimes the soap stung, but that did nothing to stop the slow creep of relaxation her hands were causing. Steadily, under her care, he was becoming less tense. By the time she moved on to his legs and middle, his breathing had begun to deepen.

Finally, she sat back and studied her handiwork. “Soak for a bit, okay? I’m going to go get you something to eat and drink.”

“Alright,” he said. Speaking made him actually feel how dry and hoarse his throat was.

Juska kissed his cheek, then rose and exited the room. Fandelmar sank as far down into the water as he could while still being able to breathe, and spent several minutes enjoying the novelty of its warmth. He was so absorbed by the sensation that he hardly heard her return. When he realized she was once again in the room, he opened his eyes and watched her. She was kneeling by her pack, and rummaging around. A moment later, she pulled out two red bottles.

“I, uh, spent some time at the alchemist while you were…” she trailed off. “My potions are getting stronger, so hopefully….”

Fandelmar smiled at her, and some of the tension around her eyes faded. She moved to collect a towel, and then sat beside him again. There were large, dark circles under her eyes. He reached out and cupped her cheek, ignoring that his hand was damp, and she gave him a small smile and kissed his palm.

“Will you drink a potion for me?”

When he nodded, she uncorked one of the bottles and passed it over. He tried to toss it back, but his mouth was so dry that it was difficult to swallow. After sputtering a little, he drank at a more sedate pace, shivering as his cuts and bruises began to heal. It felt like his skin was crawling across his entire body.

He tested out a deep breath as he passed the bottle back, and found that it hurt much less. Juska took the bottle, set it aside, and held up a towel. “Want to come eat?”

Fandelmar nodded and began to rise, managing to make it out of the tub without stumbling. She wrapped him in the towel and began drying his skin with careful strokes. He allowed this for a moment before reaching out and collecting the towel from her.

“I can take it from here, Juska.”

She gave a small smile and nodded, then moved to the wardrobe and began removing her damp dress. Fandelmar had been drying his hair, but as her naked back came into view, his hands stilled, and he stared at her exposed skin.

The towel fell to the floor, completely forgotten, as he moved behind her and pulled her close against him. She gave a quiet gasp as he bent to get his mouth on her skin, kissing and licking at her shoulder and neck and trying desperately to re-acquaint himself with the feel of her. When she turned, he pressed his mouth to hers and rested his hands on her hips, walking her backward until she hit the wall.

“You need rest,” she managed as he sought her ear with his tongue, but her voice was low and breathy.

“I need _you_ ,” he replied, punctuating the sentence with a nip of her earlobe and a press of his thumb into the hollow of her hip.

Juska groaned and brought a hand up, burying her fingers in his hair as his mouth began to roam again. He kept her against the wall as he bent to get at her breasts, which were gloriously soft against his tongue. When he took a nipple between his teeth and bit down lightly, she groaned again. One of his hands moved up to cup her other breast while the other slid over to part her with a finger that was shaking ever-so-slightly. Juska cried out, and he traced the curve of her chest with his tongue as his fingers began slowly circling between her legs.

The hand in his hair slid to the back of his neck, and he could feel her nails digging lightly into his skin where the collar had bruised him, but he ignored the sensation. He nuzzled at her chest, momentarily overcome by its softness, before moving back up and pulling her into a kiss. Her tongue found his almost immediately, and when they both groaned, Fandelmar’s hands moved to the backs of her thighs, lifting her up against him. She wrapped her legs around his middle without hesitation, and he braced her back against the wall and pushed into her seconds later. She hadn't quite been ready for him, but this realization didn't make him ashamed despite knowing that it should. Nothing dulled the relief of her being against him and around him again.

Juska broke their kiss and tossed her head back with a loud, low cry as he worked completely within her, which opened up his access to her neck. He bit and sucked at her shoulder as he began thrusting, ignoring the ache of his ribs and the protestations of his back in favor of the perfection of being within her again. Everywhere he was touching her felt beautifully warm, a fact which became even more clear as she threw her arms around his shoulders and clung to him. Each time he pushed into her, she moaned louder. 

Auri-El, but her _voice_. It made him rock into her just a bit harder, just a bit faster, and her nails against his shoulders confirmed that this was the right reaction. There was absolutely no way that he was going to last very long, so he slipped one of his hands between them and got his thumb working against her again as he kept up his pace. 

“Gods, _Fandelmar!_ ” Her voice was low and hoarse against his ear. When he curved to get at her neck again, she tongued and nipped at the tip of his ear, sending a sharp thrill through him that was nearly his undoing. He cursed against her neck and thrust up hard, ignoring the pain in his ribs and earning him a throaty “fuck, yes!” in response.

Fandelmar’s thumb worked at her more insistently as her mouth found his again and she took over the pace, rocking her hips hard against him. He closed his eyes and let the feel of her moaning into his mouth overtake him, but didn’t let his thumb slow. Seconds later, she went tight around him and tossed her head back, hitting the wall with a dull thud that was barely audible over her voice. He felt himself shout as he thrust up hard and followed her over the brink, holding her to the wall with his hips as he pressed his face into her neck and took deep, greedy breaths. She smelled perfect. She felt perfect. It was nearly enough to wipe what he had just gone through completely from his mind for just a little while.

Juska gave a disoriented whimper, and he felt one of her legs slip. With the last of his strength, he lowered them both to the floor and took her into his lap. She straddled him again and wrapped her legs around him before taking his face in her hands and pulling him in for a kiss.

“That was different,” she said eventually. Her hands were running through his hair, brushing it back and tidying it up.

Fandelmar winced against a sudden surge of guilt. “Sorry.”

“No.” She took his face in her hand and forced him to look at her. “It wasn’t a bad thing. You’re just usually more… controlled.”

“I…” He licked at his dry lips with an only marginally less-dry tongue. “I needed to feel something good.”

“Fucking gods.” She wrapped him in a tight hug, then loosened her arms with a start. “Sorry. Fuck.”

Fandelmar squeezed her back. “Let’s not be sorry. We’re here.”

Juska studied his face for a moment before giving him a nod. “We are. We're here, and we’re going to feed you, and then we're crawling into that bed and sleeping for as long as we feel like, okay?”

When he nodded, she climbed out of his lap and reached down to help him to his feet. He rose with a wince, and she silently walked for the other potion, uncorked it, and handed it to him. Fandelmar drank it as she guided him to the dining table and eased him into a chair.

The smell of food put nearly everything else out of his mind. He set upon his plate immediately, tearing ravenously into a roll, finishing it in two bites before moving on to the cold pheasant breast. That lasted only moments longer against his hunger, and he would have reached for the apple also on the plate if Juska hadn’t snatched it away.

“No. Not too much, not with as fast as that just went down.”

He licked at his lips and felt suddenly sick and sweaty.

She saw his face and offered out the cup of water. “ _Slow_ sips, Fandelmar.”

He obeyed, but only because she was staring at him. After three swallows, she took the cup from him. “I’ll leave this by the bed, but that’s enough for now.”

Fandelmar would have protested, but he was fighting against an odd mix of nausea and exhaustion, which just left him feeling drained. It must have shown in his face, because soon she was guiding him toward the bed and helping him into it. She set the cup on the table beside him, then moved to the washbasin to tidy herself.

His eyes were already starting to feel heavy, but he jolted back into consciousness when he noticed her bending over the candle at her bedside, preparing to put it out. 

“Don’t!”

Juska jumped and looked at him with wide eyes. 

He forced his voice to soften. “Please leave it burning.”

“O-okay. Yeah, sure.” 

She left it alone and moved for the bed, slipping under the covers and immediately pulling him close. Fandelmar pressed against her, moving lower until he could tuck his head beneath hers. She wrapped him in her arms and held him tightly. 

He had one brief, searing moment of thankfulness for her before his body gave in and granted him the first deep, heavy sleep he’d had in weeks.


	24. Juska

Juska spent the next several days in their room with Fandelmar, helping him recover. She held him while he slept and got him eating regularly again. The only time she left was to go hunt for Neloth, and each time she did, he went with her. The first trip, she had worried that having him with her would make hunting more difficult, but then she remembered the traps she had made. So in the mornings, instead of creeping through the woods with her bow and hoping he was quiet enough to make hunting possible, she checked her trap sites. While she did, she rambled to him about how they worked, showing him how to set and reset them. 

She had been rambling a lot since he came back, because Fandelmar was hardly speaking on his own. He listened well, and smiled or laughed at all the right times, but words were harder to draw from him. When they were out in the woods, or in their room, he spent a lot of time just watching her. He always had the same look on his face when he did, and no matter how many times it happened, she couldn’t read his expression at all. But he touched her every chance he got, so it couldn’t be bad, right?

They hadn’t had sex since the night she brought him back. Juska was letting Fandelmar dictate how far their touching went, and so far they had stuck to snuggling in bed, where his hands would often roam over her body, slowly but surely. Sometimes it seemed like he was making sure she was real, which made her want to cry. 

By the end of their first week together, the bruises on his skin had faded, and the other injuries were nearly healed, as well. They’d burned through Juska’s small stock of healing potions to get him to that point, which made her glad that she’d forced herself to continue practicing while he was gone. 

She asked him that afternoon if he wanted to go gather more reagents with her. They’d been lying in bed, facing each other, and he had been gently petting her hair. He nodded immediately and rose to get his shirt and cloak on. When he realized that she was still in the bed, watching him, he paused and looked over at her.

“Sorry,” Juska said, rising and moving for her pants. “I’m just…” She got one leg in before continuing, because she was trying not to say anything stupid. “It’s nice to see you in here again.”

Fandelmar smiled and crossed the room to get to her. His thumb ran along her cheek before he pulled her in for a soft kiss. Then, he pressed his forehead to hers. “Likewise, Juska.”

She felt a flutter in her chest when he said her name. 

Juska held his hand as they walked through the city and kept a careful eye out for guards once they reached the Stone Quarter. She'd quickly learned over the past few days that any time one came in sight, Fandelmar would withdraw inward and become harder to reach for several minutes afterward. She suspected that he was looking out for Thorgold, but so far they’d been lucky enough to miss him. They would just have to finish gathering potion ingredients before his shift at the gate started.

Just then, a guard passed by, and she heard Fandelmar suck in a sharp breath. She stopped and looked up at him. “W-we don’t have to go out here. We can stay in the Grey Quarter, or the inn. Just let me know.”

He studied her for a moment, with that look on his face that she couldn’t place. Then, he shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Being out of the city sounds nice.”

“Okay.”

They managed to avoid more guards during the rest of the walk to the gate, but Juska was less lucky with the townsfolk themselves. Word was slowly spreading that she’d been the one who caught the murderer. She wasn’t sure how it had, since she was nearly certain the steward wouldn’t want it known that the guards had failed at their job. Either way, she was now dealing with many relieved and happy women finding her and thanking her for what she’d done.

It was nice, but the last thing she wanted was another reminder for Fandelmar of what he’d gone through. So she was pleasant, but brusque, with the woman who stopped her as they made for the gate. Fandelmar said nothing, but he was giving her that look again.

Once they finally made it out of the city, Juska got them slogging through thinning snow to check for new growth on the plants down by the river. Fandelmar followed after her silently and spent his time looking around them. She glanced at him occasionally as she worked, and found that the lines that had been around his eyes in the Stone Quarter had faded again.

Juska harvested for about half an hour before pausing to sit at a rock by the river. She always stopped here, because she liked the sound of the water as it burbled over the stones nearby. Fandelmar settled himself down beside her and slipped his hand against her hip, holding her to his side. She took the cue and rested her head on his shoulder. They stared at the water in silence for a few minutes.

“Juska.”

“Yeah?”

He kept his gaze on the water. “Why am I out of prison?”

Juska took a moment to chew on her lip. “I... brought them the real murderer.”

His fingers tightened slightly against her hip. “Did he go after you again?”

“Yeah, you could say that. I was sort of out looking for him. ”

Fandelmar sighed through his nose. “You promised to be careful.”

“Fandelmar, you were—”

He cut her off. “He would have struck again eventually. They would have had to let me out.” 

She pulled away from him. “So you wanted another person to _die_ to fix this?”

“If it kept you safe, _yes!”_ Fandelmar’s cheeks were red, and his voice was so loud it echoed over the water. 

Her eyes went wide; she had never heard him yell for real. Juska moved to stand, but he caught her arm and kept her by him. Her mouth worked as she tried to reply. Finally, words came, and they were even at a normal volume.

“I didn’t want you hurting a second longer than necessary.”

He turned his attention to the river, but didn’t release her arm. When he spoke again, his voice was back to its usual softness. “I am not worth risking your life over.”

“Yes, idiot. You are.” He kept staring at the water, so she planted a kiss on his temple. “And if they’d taken me, you would have done the same thing.”

Fandelmar turned his head and studied her for several seconds before replying. “Thank you, Juska.”

She nestled against his side again. “We keep each other safe, right?”

He returned his arm to its spot around her waist and stared off into the middle distance instead of replying. Juska closed her eyes and listened to him breathe and let him have a moment.

“A Dunmer asked me to kill the guard who turned me in. More than a month before it happened.”

“I’ll do it if you don’t.”

Fandelmar’s fingers tightened against her hip again. “Don’t. You can’t.”

“Why not?” She sounded petulant, but she’d killed two men to keep him safe already, hadn’t she?

“If we break the law, it will be easier for the Thalmor to get to us.”

She shrugged. “So we’ll kill the Thalmor, too.”

“Juska.”

“Are you really telling me you don’t regret not doing it, after what you just went through?”

He shook his head. “I do. But I need to be better than they expect me to be.”

“If he goes after you again, Fandelmar, that’s it.”

“ _Juska.”_

“I’m not letting you get tortured again over your pride!”

Fandelmar rose abruptly and stared down at her. “It is not _pride_. Murder is what got us into this mess.”

She had a brief, unpleasant vision of slitting the throat of the Thalmor who had broken her finger. “Okay, first of all, it was self-defense, not murder.” She tilted her head to stare up at him. “And secondly, a _lot_ of things got us into this mess.”

“Fair. So perhaps you see my point that we shouldn’t make it worse? There is a system in place to deal with people like Thorgold.”

Juska sat back on her hands. “Yeah, and it’s clearly working great for you and the rest of the elves in Windhelm, isn’t it?”

Fandelmar ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. “Perhaps it is retribution for all the time I spent making men’s lives terrible over the years.”

“Horseshit. This isn’t happening for some divine reason.” She hauled herself to her feet and took his hand. “You didn’t deserve what you just went through. I didn’t deserve to get caught by Thalmor, and neither did my pa. This is all just random chaos.”

“...That is not the response I expected from someone with faith.”

“The Nine aren’t petty. If they were, shit would be a lot worse. I have faith,” she added. “But I also know where I stand in the grand scheme of things. Talos has a lot more important things to do than pay attention to my actions and my problems.”

Fandelmar gave her a small smile. “I don’t.”

Juska stepped in close and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Good. So don’t yell at me when I do the same for you.”

He pressed his lips to her hair and took a deep breath. She followed his lead and took a moment to enjoy how clean he smelled. After a few moments, his hand slipped into her hair and tilted her face toward his. As always, the feeling of his lips against hers rapidly woke an almost panicky sense of need within her, but she tried to keep it from showing, even when she felt his tongue brush against her lower lip.

Fandelmar broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her. “Juska. If I left, would you come with me?”

Panic of a very different sort flooded through her veins. “Where?”

“Morrowind.”

“A-are you going to leave?”

“I don’t know.” When she didn’t respond immediately, he sighed and began to pull away from her.

She tightened her grip on his waist. “Stop. It’s not because of what you’re thinking.”

“Then what?”

“Thorgold is a problem, but he’s a known enemy now. If, if we leave for Morrowind, we’re starting over from scratch. We could have a life here. We know people in the quarter. You’ve got steady work. Ruvene suggested I become her apprentice. Combined, that would be enough money for us to actually rent a place and not stay at the inn.”

Fandelmar smiled and ran a hand over her hair. “I didn’t know that. You’d be able to keep us in potions.”

“I would.” She kept going in a rush. “And, and I’m not saying no. I just think…. The Empire lost another hold while you were gone. Things could get better.”

His hands slipped down to rest on her shoulders. “I am only asking because I don’t want the Thalmor to put you through what I just endured.”

Gods. Part of her wanted to ask about it, but the rest of her didn’t want to know. “I’ll kill any Thalmor that comes for me. And I swear to Talos, Fandelmar, if anyone touches you again, I’m slitting their throats. And then we really will have to leave for Morrowind.” He started to retort, but she cut him off, ignoring the way her voice was cracking. “No. I’m not letting you just walk off to be hurt ever again.”

To her surprise, Fandelmar started laughing. Hard. The sound filled her with relief; a few days ago his ribs wouldn’t have even let him do it. As he laughed, he pulled her close and squeezed her tightly. Even though she had been seconds from crying, it made her start to giggle.

Eventually, he wiped at his eyes and smiled down at her, and she felt her heart beat faster because for the first time since he walked out of the prison door, he was completely with her. His eyes had regained their normal warmth, and they were focused in on her.

“Thank you for caring about me, Juska.”

“Don’t thank me for that.” She reached up and cupped his scarred cheek. 

Fandelmar turned his head and gave her palm a soft kiss. “Shall we head back and get dinner?”

Juska took a moment to run her hands down his back before reaching up and brushing his hair behind his ears. “Yes. And then I want you to get in bed and hold me.”

His eyes lidded ever-so-slightly. “Just hold you?”

Gods. Nobody had ever done to her what he could with just his words. She rose onto her toes and gave him a slow, suggestive kiss, waiting until she’d made him exhale breathily before replying, “I’m up for anything.”

He grinned and took her hand, tugging gently to get them walking back for town. “Then let us go enjoy our evening.”

Juska squeezed his hand and ducked her head to hide a blush behind her hair as they went home.

 


	25. Fandelmar

Fandelmar was utterly, pathetically grateful for Juska in the weeks after he was freed from the prison. He hoped that she didn’t know that she had likely saved his life for a second time, but he himself was very aware. Yet again, she had pulled him from danger and then nursed him back to health. At night, sometimes he would wake and watch her sleep, wondering all the while how he was ever going to repay her.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to. Hopefully, they had earned a bit of peace. The Thalmor were still a problem, he knew, but he was also too exhausted to _care._  

It took more time than Fandelmar would like for him to feel comfortable alone. The first time he stayed behind during Juska’s morning hunt, he had nearly panicked. He still wasn’t entirely sure why. But, he had focused on breathing, and had managed to make it through until she returned. If she was aware that he’d had a problem, she gave no sign, and her normalcy had returned some of his to him.

Over the next few days, being alone in the room became easier. When she left and the walls closed in, he focused in on the things that made the room theirs, which reminded him that it was a safe space. It took a little longer to feel comfortable in the main room. Juska seemed to share this problem, because though they never spoke about it, they also never sat at the table he had been taken from again.

Going outside of the inn proved a bit more difficult, simply because Fandelmar felt very exposed. He knew intellectually that the guard could come find him inside the inn as easily as outside, but it still felt less safe to be visible. Because of this, he did work that kept him to the Grey Quarter and the docks once he felt up to earning money again. 

He had just come back from a day of chopping wood and moving crates when Juska returned to their room, as well. When she saw him washing his face at the basin, she moved to stand behind him and slipped her arms around his middle.

“Hey.”

Fandelmar smiled at her in the mirror. “Hello.”

She nuzzled at his bare shoulder. “I need help with something. Two things.”

“Of course, Juska.” He reached for a towel and dried his face, then turned and looked down at her. 

Juska rose onto her toes and gave him a gentle kiss. “Let me get comfortable.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and waited as she stepped out of her shoes. Part of him hoped that the dress would go, as well, but after briefly combing her hair, she sat down next to him and leaned against his side. He slipped an arm around her, then planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“What do you need help with?”

When she spoke, her voice was unusually quiet. “Are we staying here?”

Fandelmar took a slow breath and ignored the way the question made his chest go tight. “...So long as we don’t let down our guard.”

She pointed to their packs, which were by the door. “Those are ready to go.” Her hand reached for his at her side. “So long as we’re here, we’ll have packs by the door.”

“Alright.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Then, yes. We should stay. You made some good points the other day about having to start over again if we left. I believe it is worth the risk.”

Juska gave a slow nod. “Okay. Ruvene asked me about an apprenticeship again today. I told her I would give her an answer tomorrow.”

Fandelmar smiled and squeezed her to his side. “Congratulations.”

“The pay isn’t bad. Apparently she gets pretty steady work from the quarter, especially when it comes to diseases and minor injuries.”

“So you will be doing a lot of healing. You’re good at that.”

She chuckled. “I’m really not, honey.”

“You will be. I certainly give you enough practice.”

“Yeah, about that. How about you work on not getting hurt? My stress levels would appreciate it.”

This made him laugh. “I will take that under advisement when I get back to work.”

“How nice of you.” Juska fell back against the bed and tugged on his arm. When he lay beside her, she turned on her side and pressed close against him. “Did you do work today? You weren’t here when I stopped in after hunting this morning.”

He nodded. “No contracts. Just paid labor.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, easily coaxing his eyes into closing. “And it felt okay?”

“I kept away from the guard, but... yes.”

Juska’s lips brushed against his shoulder. Fandelmar fell quiet, but took the moment to rearrange them both so that he was facing her on the bed. When he bumped her nose with his, she answered with her adorably gap-toothed grin. He eased his fingers into her hair, pulling a lock of it over her shoulder toward him.

“What was the other thing?”

“Oh.” She started to chew on her lip, but he pulled it free with his thumb. “I want to write my family. That’s stupid, right?”

“Not especially. The sentiment, at least. I suppose it depends on which hold they are in. You never told me.”

Juska winced. “They’re in Riverwood.” When she saw the look on his face, she elaborated: “That’s in Whiterun’s hold.”

“So, in theory, no Thalmor.”

“Yeah.” 

“Are you worried about it being a poor decision for them, or for you?”

“I don’t know.”

He was silent for a moment as he thought. “I… If I were in your situation, I would write them.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to,” she replied. “But I wanted to see what you thought.”

“You have a chance to re-establish contact with them. You should take it.”

Juska frowned at him. “I’m sorry we can’t reach out to your grandfather.”

Fandelmar sighed and closed his eyes. “I’ve made my peace with it.” When he opened his eyes again, he caught her chewing on her lip, and once again saved it with his thumb. “Will you be writing your parents, or your brother?”

It was Juska’s turn to sigh. “My brother.”

He considered asking if she planned on telling her brother that she was still with him, but decided against it. Instead, he pet at her cheek and said, “I don’t think I actually know his name.”

“Sven.” Juska studied his face. “He’s older than me by a year, and somehow managed to miss both our parents’ hot tempers.”

“Unlike you?”

She laughed. “I got two helpings.”

Fandelmar grinned at her. “You certainly did.”

Juska gave him a kiss, and when he made a pleased noise in response, he felt her smile against his mouth. “It sounds like you like my temper.”

He pulled back and ran his fingers through her hair again. “When I am not on the receiving end, I do.”

When she smacked at his shoulder, he laughed and took her by the wrist, moving until he was over her with her back against the bed. Her free hand immediately shifted to the back of his neck, pulling him close for a kiss. Her fingers brushed along his skin, and then she pulled away and frowned.

“What?”

“Fandelmar, your neck is one big knot.”

He buried his face against her neck and laughed. 

“Seriously! How many crates did you lift?” Her hand moved to his shoulder and began feeling around. “Sit up. I need to fix these.”

Fandelmar obeyed, though he didn’t stop laughing. Juska rose onto her knees behind him and began the slow process of coaxing his muscles to relax. He closed his eyes as she worked, letting the quiet of the room and the sure progress of her fingers lull him. Soon, all of him felt much better.  


The rest of their night was uneventful, and the work he found the next morning passed without issue. Fandelmar was walking from the docks, quietly amused that his back was once again knotted, when he found himself actually wanting to pass through the Stone Quarter. He was feeling well enough that his fear of being seen by the guards made him angry. So, he took a deep breath and turned for the market. His heart raced when the first guard came into view, but he ignored it, and instead focused on his destination.

Niranye was standing at her stall. He wasn’t expecting that she would recognize him, but when he came into view she stood up straight and frowned.

“Afternoon,” she said in their language. 

“Hello,” he said in kind as he stopped in front of her stall. A few shoppers turned their heads and stared at them.

Her frown deepened. “I’m surprised that you’re still in the city.”

“You heard, then.”

“Of course I did. Every Altmer in town has been terrified ever since you were taken away.” Her eyes narrowed. “I was under the impression that if we worked hard we’d be left alone, but you changed that for me.”

Fandelmar shook his head. “I believe it is just one specific guard causing problems.”

“But everyone else is _letting_ him. I don’t know. I don’t feel safe here any longer.”

He thought again of the Dunmer asking him to kill Thorgold and frowned. “...To be fair… the town knows you. You’ve been here for a while, right?”

Niranye nodded. “Years.”

“I had bad timing. I came to town right as the women began being murdered.”

“I don’t know. If it gets much worse, I’m leaving for Riften.”

Fandelmar realized, for the second time in two days, that he could benefit from a map. “Is Riften better?”

She snorted. “It’s warmer, at least. I have business contacts there. But honestly, the city is more diverse. And, Mara’s temple is there. Everyone worships Mara.”

“True.” He would be hard-pressed to find someone with an ill opinion of the Goddess of Love. Which was unsurprising, considering said goddess accepted everyone. 

Niranye gave him a calculating look. “It would probably be a better environment for you and your Nordess, you know.”

“We spoke about leaving here, but she was just offered an apprenticeship as an alchemist.”

“I see. Good for her! Steady work is hard to give up. I can do what I do anywhere, at least. People always need to buy and sell. If she picks up that trade, the two of you will be set.”

He smiled. “That was our conclusion, as well.”

Niranye’s eyes cut over his shoulder, and her expression changed in a way he did not like. “You might want to go,” she said in common. “One of the guards is staring daggers at your back.”

Fandelmar swallowed against the sensation that his heart was about to leap from his chest and turned his head to look. Across the market, Thorgold was standing and staring right at him.

“You are correct,” he managed. “This is my cue to leave.”

Her eyes remained focused over his shoulder. “Be safe.”

“You as well, Niranye.”

Fandelmar turned and began walking across the market, utterly ignoring how his pulse was telling him to bolt. There was no reason for him to worry. Other than the fact that he was an ex-Thalmor on the run, that is. And that was ignoring the fact that there hadn’t been anything for him to worry about when he first got taken, either.

He forced himself to breathe and focused on his steps as he left the quarter, counting them loudly in his head to ignore the way his fear was racing underneath. When he reached the Grey Quarter, he finally let himself look over his shoulder, and relaxed when he realized that he had not been followed.

There. He had made it out into the city proper without breaking down, and without anything bad happening. Hopefully that would help quell the panic the next time he felt it rise, and would make it easier for him to get back to work taking contracts. He strode for the inn, intent on finding Juska and filling her in on his day, because he knew that as soon as he saw her, the last of his fear from the market would fade.


	26. Juska

“Juska, come here!”

Juska had been looking over the bridge and out to the water, but when she heard her name, she turned her attention toward the gate. Bjorni stood near them, waving to get her attention. She smiled as she drew closer to him and his companion, who was a blonde Nord girl about her age.

“What’s going on?”

“My sister wants to meet you.” He took his helmet off and grinned between them. “Juska, this is Griet. Griet, Juska.”

Juska tried to hide her confusion behind a smile. “Hello. Nice to meet you!”

To her surprise, the other girl pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you so much.” She drew back and looked Juska over. “When he told me you were the one who caught the Butcher, I just had to meet you.”

“Oh.” Juska looked over at Bjorni. “Have you been telling people that was me?”

“It sure as fuck wasn’t any of us.” He shrugged.

Juska smiled against a ripple of anger. “I need to get in with these reagents, but it was nice meeting you, Griet.”

“Yeah!” She gave Juska a bright smile and a little wave. Juska returned it, then resumed her walk in to town. 

It was early afternoon, and she had a few more hours with Ruvene before she could head back to the inn for dinner. She had been sent out to collect reagents as a test to see how well her ability to identify plants was progressing. When she returned to the shop and placed her satchel on the table Ruvene used for sorting, she felt her pulse begin to race. Her mentor stood beside her and said the name of a plant, and Juska held up her sample for approval. This continued until all of the plants she brought in had been identified.

Ruvene gave a single nod as she spoke. “Very good. You have a head for this.”

Juska ran her fingers over the petals of a mountain flower as she replied. “My ma taught me some of these. I had a head start.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Ruvene gathered the reagents from the table and began hanging them to dry. “That’s enough for today. See you tomorrow morning?”

“Are you sure? I can stay to help close up….”

Ruvene smiled at her. “Enjoy the break. Spring is coming, and we’re going to be up to our necks in requests for ways to unstop people’s breathing.”

“Fair enough!” Juska slung her satchel across her shoulders and moved for the door. “Have a good evening, Ruvene!”

“Tell Fandelmar I say hello,” the Dark Elf replied.

Juska took the winding streets between the alchemy shop and the inn, wondering as she walked if Fandelmar would be back yet. Two days ago, he’d taken a contract to guard a merchant’s shipment between Windhelm and the Mage’s College at Winterhold. Juska had warned him that it was going to be a very cold trip, but he had simply shrugged and put his cloak on over his armor. 

“We are traveling on horseback,” he’d said. “I won’t be gone for long.”

The inn room was still empty when she made it back, so Juska pulled some paper and ink out of her bedside table drawer and settled in at the dining table. She’d bought these supplies a week ago, but still hadn’t used them. Getting words onto paper wasn’t easy for her on a good day, and that was when she actually knew what she wanted to say. 

Well… she could start with his name. Juska picked up her quill and scrawled _Sven._

Wait. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. She set that paper aside, and then tried again.

_Brother,_

Juska accidentally left an ink blot on the paper and muttered a curse to herself. It had been a long time since she’d written anything down.

_I wanted to let you know that I’m safe. I’d write our parents, but I know you’re less likely to tear this up without opening it. You probably aren’t going to like what else I have to say, though._

Shit. Juska wasn’t actually sure she wanted to tell Sven about Fandelmar in a letter. She set that paper aside, too, and restarted. At least this way she could try again without the ink blot.

_Brother,_

_I wanted to let you know that I’m safe. I’d write our parents, but I know you’re less likely to tear this up without opening it. You’ll let me know if they’re still mad, right?_

_I hope they’re not._

Juska had to look up at the ceiling for a moment to give her eyes the chance to stop watering. She was not in the mood to cry over her parents.

_We’re in_

‘We’? Talos’ _tits_ , not again. Juska set the paper aside and began writing everything out yet again. 

_I’m in Windhelm,_ she continued. _There’s an actual Temple to Talos here, and I pray for all of you a lot. After I finish writing this, I’m going to head there and pray for guidance on whether or not to send this. So if you get this, thank Talos. I actually think that it would be really nice for Pa to end up in charge of a temple or a shrine. With the way the war is going, he might get to, assuming you all move back home when it’s safe._

_Anyway, I’m keeping this short. It’s probably a good idea not to put too much detail in, just in case. Give the girls my love._

Juska thought for a moment, and then decided against signing it. She set the letter aside to dry, then packed all the writing supplies back into their drawer. After taking a moment to comb her hair and scrub at the ink stains now covering the fingers of her right hand, she let herself back out and made for the temple. 

Fandelmar had said that he would write his family if he could. He’d made it clear that to him, it was worth the risk. But she didn’t want to be the one to put them in danger just because she felt sad when she thought about her little sisters. So she had decided that she would ask Talos whether or not sending it would put her or Fandelmar at risk. Hopefully, this was one of those days where he would listen to her question.

The temple was busy when she arrived, but there were still several empty benches. She chose one near the back and sat down to begin her prayer. As always, she let her mind still and focused on the altar at the front of the temple. After a few moments, she felt the faint tingle of her god’s attention, and realized luck was on her side today.

_Hello._ Juska took a deep breath. _I want to write my parents and see if they’re okay. That’s not a dumb idea, is it?_

As she sat and waited, visions of her family crowded around a dining table filled her mind. Her brother was holding a letter and reading it to her father while everyone else focused on their food. The mood of the scene was calm. Almost happy, even.

_And we’ll be okay if I send it? I don’t want to put Fandelmar in danger just because I miss my family._

After a moment, her mind’s eye filled with the image of Fandelmar walking into their inn room, armor-clad, smiling, and blessedly uninjured. Juska opened her eyes and sighed in relief. She took a moment to thank Talos for his attention before rising and leaving a coin on the altar for the priests. That done, she returned to the inn, humming lightly as she walked through the streets. 

Juska was sitting at the dining table in their room, carefully folding and sealing the letter, when Fandelmar let himself in. She had a brief moment of recognition as he smiled at her exactly as he had in her vision. She rose to help him out of his armor and check him for injuries out of habit, but she already knew that she would find him whole and healthy.

“Good evening, Juska.” He unbuckled his sword and set it aside, then held still as she began to help him out of the rest of his kit.

“Talos told me you were coming back tonight.” She rose onto her toes to give him a kiss.

“Did he? Were you praying at the temple?” He slipped off a gauntlet and brushed her hair behind her ear.

Juska nodded. “I wanted to ask about sending a letter to my family.” She pointed toward the table before unfastening his chestplate and setting it aside. “I think I’m going to.”

The scar on Fandelmar’s cheek shifted as he smiled at her. “Good.”

They spent a few moments getting him out of the rest of his armor before either of them spoke again. Once he was down to plainclothes, Fandelmar wrapped her in a tight hug. She closed her eyes and relaxed against his chest.

“The job went okay?”

“Yes.” His lips pressed against her hair. “Utterly uneventful. They said they might want me again for their next trip.”

Juska laughed. “Repeat easy money? Yes, please.”

Fandelmar slipped his fingers into her hair and tilted her face to his. She smiled up at him, and he gave her that look she still couldn’t quite place. 

“Were you serious about getting a place here?”

“Dead serious.” 

He brought his mouth to hers, and she felt his smile just before he kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he responded by pulling her close against him, which set her nerves clamoring as always. His hands slid down her sides and rested at her hips, and when they squeezed, she pulled away with a soft groan.

“Hold that thought. We need to feed you.” Fandelmar met her eyes and gave her a slow smile, and she blushed and smacked him on the shoulder. “Pervert.”

“Fine. You make a better dessert, in any case.”

Juska felt her flush deepen. “Gods. Let’s eat in the main room tonight. Otherwise I might not let you eat at all.”

He laughed and took her hand. “Come on.”

It was good to have him back, she realized at dinner. Everything felt a little brighter when he was around. When she worked up the nerve to tell him that, he raised an eyebrow and grinned at her.

“Is this more commentary on my skin tone?”

Juska laughed helplessly and buried her face in her hands. “I need to work on my phrasing. Also, you’re an asshole.”

Fandelmar chuckled as he prodded at her shoulder. “Juska. Keep that pretty face in sight. I haven’t seen it nearly enough over the past few days.”

She made a strangled noise and continued hiding, which made him laugh harder. The sound caused a sudden stab of guilt to run through her, and she took a few moments to compose herself before uncovering her face and returning to dinner.

Was she being a coward by not telling Sven she was with Fandelmar? Juska’s mind came back to this thought repeatedly as the night went on. Even though she knew her brother, and knew that she would be better able to explain to him in person, it still felt a little like shame. But she wasn’t ashamed, right? She’d caught a murderer for him. The entire city knew who they were, and why she’d done what she had.

And _that_ reminded Juska of her conversation with Bjorni that afternoon. Fandelmar caught her frown at this memory as they were lying together in bed, and reached out to trace her lower lip with his thumb.

“Something is bothering you.”

“Yeah. I found out who’s been telling everyone I caught the murderer, and it made me realize that we probably should have used fake names when we came here.”

Fandelmar nodded. “That did occur to me, once the melancholy had loosened its grip.”

“Fuck.” Juska took a deep breath. “Are we going to be okay?”

“We’ve dealt with everything else that has come our way so far. If this becomes a problem, we will do it again.”

She studied his face, and found certainty there. “...Okay.”

At that, Fandelmar pulled her close, and his warmth caused tiredness to seep through her. Soon, they were both drifting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, there may be a posting delay next week. I'm struggling with the arc these chapters are introducing, and I don't want to write myself into a hole by posting something I want to change later. Hopefully I'll be able to keep up the schedule, but work this week has been incredibly draining, and it takes a lot of brain to make the words go.
> 
> Also, a **sneak peek** of Chapter 29, just because I love you:  
>   
>  _writing is hard okay_


	27. Fandelmar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is AO.

Fandelmar was sitting at a table in the main room of the inn, working his way through his lunch, when an unfamiliar Nord walked in. This happened occasionally, but not enough to prevent the other patrons from staring. The man looked around, swallowed, and then approached Neloth at the bar. Fandelmar turned his attention back to his food and was prepared to ignore the new man until he heard him speak.

“Excuse me. Is a woman named Juska staying here?”

Fandelmar’s head jerked up, but Neloth neither blinked, nor looked his way. “I don’t recognize the name, no,” he said. 

The Nord sighed. “Tall, dark blonde girl, long hair, blue eyes?”

“I don’t mean to offend, but that could be nearly anyone in town.”

“Look, the other innkeeper said she was staying here.”

“And the other innkeeper has no way of knowing that, since she’s not running this inn,” Neloth replied.

There was a long pause. Then, the Nord spoke again. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks for nothing.” He turned and began walking for the door.

“Have a good day, sir,” Neloth said to his back.

Fandelmar side-eyed the man as he walked out the door in an attempt to glean any information he could. But he looked like a Nord: tall, broad shoulders, blonde hair braided at the temples. He couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but he expected that they were blue. The only thing of note was, worryingly, the large knife at his belt. It looked painstakingly cared for.

Neloth waited for about a minute after the Nord left before walking over to Fandelmar and frowning. “Did you recognize that man?”

“No,” he replied. “And that worries me.” Fandelmar shoved his lunch aside and rose. “I should go talk to Juska.”

Neloth gave him a long look before replying. “At some point, I think you should fill me in on what’s going on with you two.”

He gave the Dunmer a small smile. “At this point, I feel we owe it to you. Fair enough.”

Neloth waved him off. “Deal with this first. If he comes back, I’ll keep being uncooperative.”

Fandelmar rose and looked down at him. “Be safe, though. I don’t want you getting hurt because of this.”

Neloth gripped his shoulder. “I’ve dealt with worse Nords than that boy.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back. I just need to let her know.”

Neloth nodded at him and moved to collect his dishes. Fandelmar thanked him, and then ducked out the door. He didn’t have his cloak, but it had been warmer recently because of the season change, so he found that he wasn’t all that cold as he made the walk to the alchemist.

When he entered the store, he saw Juska and Ruvene at their equipment, heads together, deep in discussion. He smiled at the sight, but it must not have been enough to hide his worry, because when Juska looked up, her brow immediately furrowed.

“Fandelmar? What’s wrong?” Juska looked to Ruvene, who gave her a small nod, before wiping her hands on a cloth and moving toward him.

Fandelmar pulled her close, letting his hands rest on her hips as he looked down at her. “Someone just came to the inn asking after you.”

Tight lines appeared around her eyes. “Did you recognize them?”

He sighed. “No. And I can’t describe him well, either. He was a blonde Nord with braids. A little taller than you. Big knife.”

Juska chewed on her lip. “Blonde like me, or actual blonde?”

“More blonde, like me.”

“What… what did the knife look like?”

Fandelmar described it as best as he could.

Juska put a hand to her forehead. “I think that’s my brother.” Her brow furrowed heavily. “Why is he here? I hope everyone is okay….”

“If he is your brother, then I believe he is staying at Candlehearth Hall. He mentioned that the innkeeper there told him where you were.”

She made a frustrated noise. “Everybody knows where I am these days.”

“I’m sorry for that.”

She shook her head. “It was worth it, Fandelmar.” She followed this with a grin, and the tightness in his chest subsided somewhat. “I’m going to finish my shift out here,” she added. “Once I’m done, will you go meet him with me?”

“I, ah.” Fandelmar felt his pulse quicken. “You want me to be there?”

Juska frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t want to intrude.” 

One of her hands slipped up his chest toward his shoulder. “My family needs to know about you.”

Fandelmar nodded. “Then I’ll go.”

Juska gave him a gap-toothed grin in response, and he felt himself smile. She rose onto her toes for a quick kiss, and then walked back over to Ruvene. 

“See you at the inn!”

He waved at them both and exited the shop. As he walked back to the inn, he kept an eye out for the Nord, but didn’t see him anywhere. When he re-entered the main room, Neloth gestured for Fandelmar to join him in the kitchen.

“I see my instinct not to tell anybody where you’re staying was correct,” he said.

Fandelmar nodded. “We, ah, would like to be hard to find.”

“May I ask why?” Neloth crossed his arms.

Fandelmar sighed. It was best to keep the answer simple. “We are hiding from the Thalmor.”

Neloth considered this for a moment. “You’re certainly not the first people to come to Windhelm to avoid them. Fair enough. I’ll keep playing dumb. Does Juska have any idea who that man was?”

“Her brother, actually.”

“Is that good?”

“I am not sure. I suspect it will depend on how he reacts to me.”

Neloth gave a slow nod. “Then good luck.”

“Thank you yet again, Neloth, for the help.” Fandelmar offered out his hand.

The Dunmer clasped it and squeezed firmly. “Don’t worry about it.” 

They left the back room together. Neloth returned to the bar, and Fandelmar retired to their room to see to his armor and pass the time until Juska returned. He thought again of the well-loved knife at her brother’s side, and turned most of his attention to his sword. As he focused his attention on sharpening and oiling it, he realized that he wanted a new one. If it had been the one he’d had during his time as a Thalmor, perhaps he would be more attached. However, this one had come to him at the end, and had soaked in bad blood, so contained worse memories. He decided as he finished its care that he would save to have a new one forged. This one, he would sell. 

Juska came in as he was setting everything aside. She moved straight for the mirror and began brushing her hair. “Talos’ tits, I look like a mess.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Juska began rummaging around in her bedside drawer and pulled out several silver and bone beads. “You any good at braiding?”

He rose and joined her by the mirror. “I can braid. Where do you want them?”

She was already swiftly pulling back the hair at her right temple, braiding it close against her scalp and periodically threading a bead into place. “Do the other side like this?”

Fandelmar obeyed, and caught her eyeing him in the mirror as she worked. “What?”

“Where did you learn how to braid?”

“I used to help my mother with her hair when I was a little boy.” He selected a bead from the pile on the wash stand and slid it into position before continuing the braid. When he looked in the mirror again, Juska was smiling at him.

“That’s really sweet,” she said. Fandelmar smiled at her, and continued working. Soon, they had met at the back, and Juska held her braid out. “Braid them together?”

Once that was done, she held out a leather cord, and he tied it off. “Better?”

She looked at herself in the mirror and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why have you not been wearing braids, then?”

Juska turned her head to look at him. “I like your fingers in my hair.”

Fandelmar smiled, then smiled harder when she began fidgeting with her dress. “Juska.”

“Huh?”

“You look good.” He stepped close and took one of her hands. 

She chewed on her lip. “I just don’t want to give him fodder for yelling.”

“Do you think he will?”

“Yeah.”

“Then perhaps I should sta-”

“ _No,”_ she cut him off. “I’m not going to hide being with you.”

“Very well.” Fandelmar squeezed her hand, then took his own turn with the comb in front of the mirror. That done, he smoothed the front of his shirt and turned to face her. “Shall we?”

Juska was still chewing on her lip, so he gently freed it with his thumb. She looked up at him, and seemed to be about to say something, before simply nodding and turning for the door.

They walked to Candlehearth Hall in silence. The sun hadn’t yet set, so they weren’t alone on the streets, and anything Fandelmar wanted to say to her, he didn’t want an audience for. So he kept his hand at the small of her back and attempted to seem reassuring. He tried to fall back when they approached the steps to the hall, but she grabbed his hand and kept him close.

“Stay by me.”

He nodded at her, and she opened the door and stepped inside.

The room wasn’t crowded, but it certainly wasn’t empty. When they walked in, several sets of eyes turned to inspect them. Juska’s attention, however, was fixed on a man sitting with his back to them at the bar. She wove her way through the tables, but halted a few feet short of him. Fandelmar stopped a bit further behind her.

“Sven?”

The man turned. When he saw Juska, his face broke into a wide smile. “Jus! Gods, I’ve been looking all over for you!” He rose and wrapped her in a tight hug. 

“Yeah, I heard. Is everything okay?” She pulled back and stared up at her brother, frowning slightly.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine! We’re doing great. I just, I just missed you.” Sven tugged at one of her braids. “What are you even doing all the way in _Windhelm?”_

“Well, it’s, uh, it’s where was safe for us.”

Sven blinked. “'Us?'”

Juska nodded, and indicated Fandelmar. “This is Fandelmar. He’s the one who helped me save Pa.”

Fandelmar offered a smile, but Sven’s eyes were cold. “You’re still— Juska, he’s one of the elves who brought Pa in in the first place! He told me about it!”

Juska sighed. “Sven, let me catch you up.”

His voice rose. “On what? The fact that you’ve been with a fucking Thalmor for the past few months?”

Fandelmar breathed deep against a quiet feeling of panic as he felt the attention in the room shift to him. It only lasted for a moment, though, because as soon as Juska smacked her brother, all eyes cut to her, instead. 

Sven was staring down at Juska, his blue eyes wide. She had her hands balled into fists at her sides, and when she spoke again, her voice was shaky. “Not every High Elf is a Thalmor, idiot. You have no idea what we went through keeping them off of your trail so you could get away. And even that’s completely ignoring the fact that I got kicked out of the family for _saving our father_. So you know what? You don’t get to judge. You just stood there and let it all happen!”

“Juska—”

“You don’t get to make me feel bad about the life I’m making here.” Juska’s voice cracked, and she turned and buried her face against Fandelmar’s shirt. He wrapped her in his arms, but kept his attention on Sven, just in case. Thankfully, his sister seemed to have startled the anger out of him.  

“Juska,” Fandelmar murmured into her hair. “Let’s go.” There were too many people staring at the spectacle they’d made of themselves. 

She sniffled, but nodded and pulled away. She gave one last look at her brother before shaking her head and making for the exit. Fandelmar followed after her, though he listened just in case her brother called them back. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to, Fandelmar picked up his pace and followed Juska out the door. 

Juska maintained her composure until they made it back to the inn, but once the door was closed behind them, she half-sobbed and wrapped her arms around his middle. He ran a hand over her hair and held her close, but her tears didn’t last for long. For a moment he thought she was trembling, but when she pulled back and looked up at him, he realized she was angry.

“Everyone in my family is a fucking idiot.”

Fandelmar wiped her cheeks dry. “He might just need some time to come around.”

“I don’t care.”

He kissed her forehead. “Yes, you do.”

Her breath hitched. “Yeah, I do.”

Fandelmar started for the washbasin to get her a cloth, but Juska stepped in close behind him, easing her hands up the front of his shirt. When he stopped, he felt her lips at his neck.

“Juska?”

She began to pull his shirt upward, which he assisted by lifting his arms and taking it the rest of the way. Once his skin was bare, he felt her press a kiss to his shoulder blade. He turned to face her, and she rose onto her toes to lick his neck. He exhaled sharply and held her close against him, and soon she had pulled his face to hers for a kiss and was groaning against his mouth. When her tongue found his, he felt himself groan back.

“Juska,” he managed after a moment, but she pressed her fingers to his lips.

“Shh. Distract me.”

Fandelmar had difficulty saying no to her on a good day. Since this certainly didn’t qualify, he lifted her and carried her for the bed, intent on doing his best to keep her mind off of her family for a little while. As they moved, her mouth roamed over his exposed skin, and by the time he had her back against the bed his breathing was harsh and ragged.

He moved away to remove his trousers, and watched as Juska pulled her dress over her head and tossed it aside. As he stepped out of his underclothes, she shimmied out of hers, and when they met on the bed once more, she pressed herself against him, feeling gloriously warm. He took a moment to let his hands roam over her body, trying as always to decide which bit of her was his favorite, and failing miserably.

“Gods.” She pressed up into his hands with a deep inhale. “I love your hands.”

“Oh, you do?” Fandelmar smiled down at her and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing lightly and bending to get at the nipple. When his tongue flicked against it, she gasped and arched up again. 

“Obviously.” She smiled at him, and he watched in fascination as her eyes dilated. As blue as they were, it was always obvious when her mind began to go hazy. He thumbed at her nipple, enjoying the way the feel of it contrasted against the softness of her breast, and kept his eyes on hers, watching as they darkened further. A soft flush was creeping across her cheeks, as well.

Gods, she was a beautiful woman.

Juska pulled Fandelmar from his reverie quite literally by threading her fingers through his hair and bringing his face to hers. He obeyed, supporting his body over hers with his weight on his arms. She wrapped a leg around him and squeezed, pressing their hips close together, and he groaned into the kiss.

“Impatient,” he murmured after pulling back just enough to let himself speak.

She took a moment to nip at his neck, working her way toward his ear. “Can you blame me?” she breathed, and the feel of her breath made him shiver. 

He shifted onto his left side, leaving one leg lazily hooked with hers, and let his right hand begin to ease down her middle. When his fingers reached her curls, he gently brushed through them, which made her smile. He leaned over and bumped her nose with his, asking for a kiss. She obliged, and when he felt her tongue against his, he curled his middle finger, parting her easily. 

“Gods, I _love_ your hands,” Juska said again. 

Fandelmar smiled at her as he brought his hand to his mouth to dampen his first two fingers. “You do,” he agreed, pressing his hand between her legs and easing them within her. As she gasped, her hips bucked, taking his fingers in completely and wrapping him in warmth. He had to pause and take a breath, because in that moment the urge to forego foreplay and just take her was nearly overwhelming.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, which had the odd effect of bringing him back to his senses. He wanted to experience more of her reactions. His thumb began circling against her as he curled his fingers ever-so-slightly, and she responded by burying her fingers in his hair and demanding another kiss. He kept his hand busy, and soon she was simply holding him by the hair, with her forehead pressed to his, and her mouth open in a continuous moan.   

“Beautiful,” he said. 

Her eyes opened, and she smiled at him. When he returned the smile, one of her hands slipped down his stomach and took him in hand. He hissed in surprise, and she managed a short laugh.

“Let me feel you back. It’s only fair.”

Gods keep her, but he nearly made her his again right then. He felt his teeth bare and channeled the emotion into his fingers instead. Her hips began bucking hard, but the hand around him matched his pace. He pressed his face into her neck and groaned as she went tight against his hand. 

“I’m close,” Juska managed. Fandelmar kissed along her jaw toward her mouth as he kept his thumb working against her. As he nipped at her lower lip, she cried out, and he let his hand still. He pulled back to watch her ride it out, and enjoyed each heave of her chest as she took deep, ragged breaths of air. 

After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was about to ask if she was ready, but the way she seized him by the hips and guided him over her answered the question well enough. He took one of her legs and rested it over his shoulder before pressing himself against her. Gods, she was so _warm._

Juska responded to his pausing by lifting her hips and taking him herself. Fandelmar heard himself curse as he pressed forward to join them completely. He bent over her, faintly impressed with how far her leg moved with him, and asked for a kiss, which she eagerly provided.

He set a pace for them, but she almost immediately wrapped her legs around him and did her best to make it faster. Most days, he would have slowed her back down, but there was an edge to her voice tonight that told him she needed the control. She felt too good to say no to, in any case, so he kept to her speed and caught himself muttering in his mother tongue each time he found himself deep within her. Soon, Juska had both her hands on his backside with her nails digging into his skin, and each time he thrust, she pulled.

It was becoming difficult to breathe, and impossible to think. All he could focus on was the sounds she made when they met, and how her warmth felt almost all-consuming. It wasn’t long until she was groaning his name and arching to meet him, all signs that she was about to finish again. Her timing was blessedly good, because he didn’t have it in him to last for much longer. Not with the way she felt beneath him. Not with her heat, and her voice. 

Juska’s nails sank into his skin as she gave a choked shout and pulled him hard against her. She held him in place and ground her hips for a few seconds before calling his name and sinking into the bedding. He tried to give her time to recover, but her nails dug into his skin again, encouraging him to keep moving. 

“Come for me!” Her voice was low and hoarse, but it was the next words out of his mouth that proved his undoing: _“Please_. I need you in me.”

Fandelmar groaned and thrust hard, letting his hips take the pace they wanted. Juska was so tight, and warm, and her cries were laced with such need that it didn’t take long for him to obey. She shouted as he climaxed, then gradually slowed his pace with her hands until they were doing little more than gently riding out the last of the sensation together. 

Eventually, he remembered to breathe, and that he was likely heavy. When he tried to pull away to the side, she tangled him in her legs with a giggle.

“Oh, no. You’re staying right here.” She gave him a soft smile, and he laughed and settled in. When he nuzzled at her ear, she began petting his hair. “Thank you.”

“You never need to thank me for this.” He moved to kiss her, and she groaned against his mouth.

“Gods,” she managed eventually. “You feel so fucking good."

“I try.” 

His pulse began to slow over the next several minutes of languid kissing they shared. This time, when he moved to lie beside her, she didn’t stop him. Instead, she curled against his side and began petting at his chest.

“What do you say when you’re speaking…” She paused. “I don’t even know what your language is called.”

“Aldmeris.”

Juska traced a spiral along his chest. “What do you say?”

Fandelmar felt his heart catch in his throat. “...All good things, don’t worry. You just make it very, very difficult to translate in the moment.”

She laughed and closed her eyes. “Good.”

The finger at his chest slowed, and then stilled. Fandelmar looked down at her and found that she was asleep against his side. He pulled the blanket over them both and stayed beside her in bed. It would be time for dinner soon, but if anyone had earned a few moments of peace today, it was her. He couldn’t keep her from thinking about her brother for long, but he could let her rest, and hope that her dreams were kind.


	28. Juska

Juska spent the next several days avoiding the Stone Quarter as much as possible. Since she was spending her days with Ruvene, that proved easy enough. She asked Neloth to tell her if Sven stopped by the inn again, but there was no sign of him anywhere.

Gods. He was probably on his way back to Riverwood to tell their parents that everything they’d said about her was right. She tried hard to stay too angry to cry, but it was difficult. She cried several times when Fandelmar wasn’t around. He was already guilty enough without her adding tears to it.

“Perhaps I should have stayed behind for the first reunion,” he’d said to her the morning after their trip to Candlehearth Hall.

“Why, so I could be happy and excited to see him, and _then_ feel betrayed? At least this way I feel like I’m missing out less.”

Fandelmar had given her a thoughtful look at this, but hadn’t replied. Juska almost considered continuing on into a tirade, but decided against it. Loudly proclaiming that she was not about to let people judge her for who she was with felt too much like shame. Shame, and compliment fishing. So she kept her mouth shut, and asked for a hug, instead.

Four days after the fight in the middle of the Stone Quarter’s inn, Juska walked into hers after a shift at Ruvene’s, and found Sven sitting at one of the tables, nursing a tankard of what was probably mead. The other patrons had come in and occupied the tables on his periphery, leaving a circle of empty seats directly around him. 

“You here to yell more?”

Sven jolted, and his eyes found where she was standing. “Juska!” He rose, nearly knocking the tankard on the table over.

“What do you want, Sven.”

“I want to talk.” When she made a hand gesture indicating that he continue, he frowned. “I want to talk somewhere private.”

Juska looked toward the stairs, and then toward Neloth. “Is Fandelmar here?” The Dark Elf nodded, and Juska turned her attention back to her brother. “We’re talking down here, then. I don’t need you making him feel terrible again.”

Sven licked his lips. “Jus, I’d like to talk to him, too.” When he saw the look she gave him, he held his hands up. “I’ll be good. I swear by Talos.”

“...Stay there for a second.” 

Juska climbed the steps to their room and let herself in the door. Fandelmar was sitting at their dining table, reading a book he’d bought from that High Elf woman in the market. As she entered the room, he looked up and graced her with a smile.

“My brother is downstairs. He says he wants to talk.”

Fandelmar closed the book, and his fingers ran along its spine as he studied her. “Are you going to speak with him?”

Juska avoided answering. “He says he wants to talk to you, too.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Let me put on a shirt.”

“So you’re okay with him coming up here?”

Fandelmar looked around the room. “If you are.” After tugging his shirt over his head and freeing his hair from the collar, he moved to the bed and began making it.

Juska felt her cheeks go pink. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, I’ll go get him.”

As she took the steps back down into the main room of the inn, she found that Sven had resumed sitting and drinking. But as soon as he saw her, he rose again. She took a deep breath and beckoned him over.

“He says come on.”

Sven drained his tankard before setting it down on the table, then moved in her direction. She could hear his heavy bootsteps on the wood of the stairs behind her as she made the climb again.

“We’re this room.” She held the door open and gestured for him to enter, then closed the door after him.

Nobody other than Neloth had ever been in her and Fandelmar’s room. Seeing her brother here made her feel strangely disjointed. The three of them stood awkwardly in their places for a few seconds before Sven broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“Jus? How, uh, how about you introduce us formally?”

She chewed at her bottom lip as she moved to stand beside her brother. “Uh. Sven, this is Fandelmar. Fandelmar, this is my brother Sven.”

Fandelmar gave her brother a smile and shifted to stand across from him, tentatively offering out a hand. “I’m glad to finally meet you. Juska has said many good things.”

Juska only realized she’d been holding her breath after Sven clasping Fandelmar’s hand and giving it a firm shake made her exhale in relief.

Sven turned his head and looked at her. “I came here to apologize to you both. I’m not proud of how I acted the other day.”

Juska’s brow furrowed. “And so now you’re magically okay with this, and with him?”

“No,” Sven admitted, “but you asked me to listen to you. You’re my sister. I love you. So… I’m here.”

“Why don’t you two sit at the table?” Fandelmar gestured toward it, and Sven followed his instructions.

“We need another chair,” Juska said. “I want you with us.”

“Then I will borrow one from downstairs. I doubt Neloth will mind.” Fandelmar gave her shoulder a soft squeeze before slipping out the door.

Juska slid into the seat across from Sven and tried not to fidget. “It’s really good to see you.”

Sven pulled out a letter. “I had the girls write you before I left. No matter what I think, you deserve to hear from them.” He handed it out.

Fandelmar slipped back into the room with a chair and brought it to the table as she unfolded the pages and began reading. There was a page from each of her sisters. They were short, and were written in a scrawl they’d definitely learned from her. Juska felt a lump form in her throat as she went over the first one. 

Nora first yelled at Juska for missing her birthday, then went on to tell her that she’d kept practicing with her bow and was getting decent at archery. “I want to be able to hunt like you,” she said, and the lump in Juska’s throat grew a bit. She swallowed against it as she finished the letter: Riverwood was nice and quiet compared to Markarth. There were a lot of neat places to play. “Nobody will tell me why you left, but I want you to visit soon if you can,” the last line read.

Juska took a deep breath. “Gods.” Fandelmar rubbed at her back as she turned the page to the letter from her middle sister. Ingrid also started her letter by chastisting Juska for not being there for her birthday, then went on into a series of questions where she tried to guess what “bad” Juska had done to be sent away. “I miss you,” it finished. “Please come visit us soon. Gran has been baking a lot of cake.”

Emilie’s letter came last, though it started the same way the other two had. The girls must have planned that. After the birthday reprimand, she went on to lament that she was out of books. “Riverwood doesn’t have any good shops, and there’s nothing to read.” Could Juska please send her some books? She was going to die of boredom. The town was nothing but chickens and cows.

Once she was done reading the letters, Juska wiped at her eyes and looked at her brother. “Do our parents know they wrote me?”

Sven shook his head.

Juska took a deep breath. “Thank you for bringing me these.” She folded the papers and set them down on the table. 

Her brother held out his hand, and she blinked at it. “What?”

“Give me your knives while we talk, Jus. I know you haven’t been taking care of them.”

Juska gave a short laugh and pulled out her boot knife. Sven produced a stone and began looking it over critically. In a way, it felt like coming home after a hunt used to.

Sven settled back in his chair and began sharpening her knife. “I have a question.”

“Ask,” Juska said.

“How… how did the two of you actually meet?”

Fandelmar and Juska looked at each other, and she nodded. “Ah. One night when she was out hunting, my fellow soldiers and I ended up in a hunting lodge with her.”

“They saw my tattoo,” Juska said.

Sven frowned. “So you _were_ a Thalmor.”

“Yes, I was.” Fandelmar went on to explain the rest with his usual grace, mentioning how he had to repeatedly intercede when one of his fellow soldiers tried to take advantage of Juska’s situation. “In the end, I changed her bindings so that she could slip them and escape.”

Sven looked up at Fandelmar as the stone slid along Juska’s boot knife. “Did that get you in trouble?”

Fandelmar nodded. “A bit, yes.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“It wouldn’t have been right to let something happen to her, prisoner or no.”

Sven considered this for a moment. “She said she saved your life.” When Fandelmar nodded, he asked, “How?”

Juska cut in so that they could leave out a decent chunk of murder. “I was out hunting, trying to make enough money for some stupid boots when I found him injured in the road. The other soldiers were dead.” 

“Who attacked you?”

“Stormcloaks,” Fandelmar said. “They thought I was dead, too, luckily.”

“I recognized him,” Juska added. “And so I patched him up and stuck with him to make sure he survived. It seemed like the right thing to do after what he’d done for me.”

Sven was silent for a long time, with his focus on her knife. She let the silence stretch on and squeezed Fandelmar’s hand under the table. Eventually, he slid the knife across to her. “There.”

“Thank you,” she said, and slid it back into place in her boot.

Finally, Sven looked up at Fandelmar. “But you _were_ one of the elves that arrested our father, right?”

Fandelmar nodded. “Yes, though I had no idea he was related to Juska until after he had been brought in.”

“Would you have done anything different?”

“I still don’t know. I was grateful to Juska, but the work I was doing was to support my grandfather.” Fandelmar’s lips went thin for a moment, and Juska squeezed his hand again.

Sven nodded to himself. “And how did the two of you end up here?”

Juska answered again, explaining how she came to Fandelmar with a plan, and how the two of them had been found out when she was leading the Thalmor off to make it easier for the rest of her family to escape. When they got to the fight with Lascelmo, Fandelmar took over.

“One of my fellow soldiers turned out to be an observant sadist. He broke her finger, and I just…” He paused for a moment. “I defended her. My superior officer survived the ensuing fight, and so I’ve been hiding from the Thalmor ever since.”

“So we came here,” Juska said. “Ulfric doesn’t allow Thalmor in his hold. And then we sort of… settled in.”

Sven was studying Fandelmar. “And you’re with her, now?”

Fandelmar nodded. “I am. She has become very important to me over the last few months.”

“Stand up.” Her brother rose from his chair and looked down at Fandelmar. When he obeyed, making her brother have to tilt his chin upward to keep eye contact, Sven snorted. “Gods, you’re fucking tall.” Then, he gave Fandelmar a tight hug. “Thank you for taking care of a family you’ve never even met. I’m sorry none of us took the time to be thankful.”

Juska stared at her brother. “Sven?”

He released Fandelmar and looked down at her. “I’ll try, Jus. Pa has always said High Elves are no good... but bad people don’t save my sister twice.” 

“ _Gods_.” It was her turn to rise and give him a hug.

When they pulled back from each other, an awkward silence descended on the room. Fandelmar looked between the two of them and then cleared his throat. “Sven, have you seen the temple of Talos since coming here?”

Her brother shook his head.

“Why don’t the two of you go visit it?” 

Juska beamed at Fandelmar and wondered yet again how she had ended up with such a wonderful man. “I’m free if you are, brother.”

Sven nodded. “I’d actually really like to see it. Talos and I need to have a talk, anyway.”

“Come on,” she said, moving for the door. “I’ll take you there now.”

Juska let Sven out the door before turning to mouth ‘thank you’ to Fandelmar. The smile he gave her in response made her feel light inside. 

****

 

The next couple of days passed quickly for Juska. She rose with the sun to hunt for Neloth, spent her day assisting and learning from Ruvene in the alchemy shop, and finished in time for dinner with Sven and Fandelmar. Conversations weren’t always the easiest, but it was clear that her brother was trying, and Fandelmar was so patient by nature that it made him difficult to ruffle.

She was so caught up in having her brother back that it took more time than it should have to notice that Fandelmar wasn’t quite himself. It wasn’t until she slipped back from the shop to collect her herb identification guide late one morning and found him still in bed that she realized something was wrong.

He looked guilty when she walked through their door, and immediately rose and began putting on his clothes. She stopped him by taking his hands in hers.

“Something is wrong, and I’ve missed it, right?” She frowned up at him.

Fandelmar brushed her hair back from her cheek and kissed her forehead. “I don’t want to make this about me. Your brother is in town.”

She cupped his cheek in her hand. “That doesn’t mean you have to hide things from me.”

A moment passed before he spoke again. “Seeing you with your brother is making me miss my grandfather very much.”

Juska nodded. “I can see that.”

“I said that I’d made my peace, but… I don’t even know if he’s still alive, Juska. I’ve been losing sleep over it.”

“Then we should find out.”

He looked down at her in surprise. “That would be very dangerous.”

She shrugged. “I’m willing to take that risk if you are.”

“Gods, Juska.” He bent and gave her a slow kiss, then held her close against him. She squeezed him tightly and took a moment to enjoy his scent.

“We’ll figure something out,” she said eventually. “You deserve to know.”

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair.

Juska reluctantly pulled away and moved for her forgotten book. “I need to get back to work. You stay out of bed, and start thinking about how to find your grandfather.”

Fandelmar nodded, then walked toward the washbasin and began splashing water on his face. “I will see you for dinner.”

On the way back to the alchemy shop, Juska spent her time praying to Talos that Fandelmar’s grandfather was alive and well. If they looked into this and found out that he was dead, she would never forgive herself. 

“Please help him with this,” she whispered. Maybe they both would get their families back, after all. They deserved that, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the missed update last week, but I needed the break. One of my original fiction stories was published, and I celebrated by not writing at all. My hands are very happy with the me for this. 
> 
> Updates should continue as scheduled from here on out!


	29. Fandelmar

Fandelmar had no idea what he was doing. Wanting to find out if his grandfather was alive was well and good, but actually going about it was proving to be a problem. How could he find out the information secretly? And if he did find out that his grandfather was alive, what then? Would his grandfather even wish to speak with him? He very much did not want to feel like a disappointment, and was very worried that he would after a conversation with the man.

What did _that_ say about them both? 

After a few days of stewing in frustration, he decided to at least see if it were even possible to locate him. Neloth had mentioned that they weren’t the only people who had come to Windhelm to avoid the Thalmor, so it was possible that he knew someone who _did_ have an idea what they were doing. He located their innkeeper in the kitchen one morning while Juska was out hunting and asked for his advice.

“I have a grandfather back in Auridon,” Fandelmar said. “He is very old. Before having to go into hiding, I supported him financially. I am wondering if there is any way to learn how he is doing.”

Neloth cocked his head. “You need someone to send a letter?”

“I… I might need someone to go in person. In case something has happened to him.”

“I don’t know of anyone personally, but I might know a place to start.” Neloth lowered his voice. “I hear rumors that the Altmer merchant in the Stone Quarter has links to the Thieves Guild. They’d have a much clearer idea of how to get what you need without bringing attention back on you.”

Fandelmar considered this for a moment. He hadn’t expected Niranye would be involved in anything untoward, though she had never given him a reason to have this opinion. “Thank you, Neloth. I’ll speak with her.”

“Good luck.” 

He left the inn and headed for the Stone Quarter to see if Niranye was at her stall. As he walked, he debated to himself yet again about whether or not this was a wise course of action. They seemed to have avoided detection so far, and this ran them the very real risk of being discovered.

And yet, the memory that had been bothering him since Juska’s brother had apologized surfaced in his mind again. In it, he was a very young man, and was building the house he and Arianwe were planning to live in once they were married. His grandfather had been beside him for the entire project, teaching him the finer points of stone-masonry and carpentry as they went. Without him, the house would have been far less impressive. His presence had been terrifying, because the man had always been stoic and withdrawn, but it had also been appreciated.

His grandfather had also been the only other survivor of his family after the daedra attack, and the two of them had grown closer as they worked through their grief together. And the guilt. Both of them had blamed themselves for not being there when it happened, despite knowing that they would have also died. Despite knowing that their family members would have wanted them to survive, and would have considered the work that had called them out of town a blessing.

Fandelmar paused at the entrance to the market and felt himself frowning. No. Not trying to reach out would be like abandoning his grandfather all over again. He sighed out his misgivings and approached Niranye’s stall.

She greeted him in their mother tongue. “You’re looking serious today.” 

“I admit to feeling serious, as well.”

“What’s going on?”

Fandelmar studied her for a moment and debated the best way to broach the topic. “In all honesty, I am worried for a family member back home in Auridon. Unfortunately, circumstances prevent me contacting him myself.”

Niranye looked him over with an expression he wasn’t sure he liked. “Hmmm.” 

He barreled on. “I want to locate someone who will go discreetly to Auridon, check on him, and inform me of what they find. But in all honesty, I have no idea where to begin.”

There was a long pause before she answered. “Tell you what. Why don’t we go get some lunch?” When Fandelmar nodded, she began closing up her stall. “I suppose you’ll want to avoid Candlehearth. The Cornerclub, maybe?”

“That works for me.”

Niranye locked her cash box and stored it in a cabinet, which she also secured before pocketing the keys and gesturing for him to lead on. When Fandelmar started walking, she fell into step beside him and began talking, in common, about the weather. He followed her cue and switched languages to reply, and she had them chattering about nothing the entire way to the Grey Quarter. Fandelmar kept an eye out for guards, but they remained on the periphery of the market and let them be.

Once they reached the New Gnisis Cornerclub, Niranye chose them a corner table and told the owner to bring out two lunch plates. Fandelmar settled in across from her and resisted the urge to ask for wine. He had learned his lesson about wasting money on alcohol from the dragon attack. They kept up the small talk until the food arrived. Once it had been served, she seemed to decide that it was time to get to business.

“So,” Niranye said, switching languages again, “What I’m hearing from you is that you need someone sneaky to find a person.”

“Yes.”

She took a moment to have a bite of the fowl on her plate. “There are people here who could do that. The Shatter-Shields have a trading company, and many of their workers don’t mind silly things like laws, if the price is right. They may even have a route to Summerset.”

“That is… one of the problems I will need to deal with. I am not exactly flush right now.”

Niranye shook her head. “Well… one of the women who was killed by the Butcher, she was a Shatter-Shield. You might be able to work the ‘my girlfriend caught your daughter’s killer’ angle.”

“Oh, Auri-El.” Fandelmar rubbed at his temples. “That is a terrible angle.”

“Is it better or worse than finding out if your grandfather’s still alive?”

He sighed. “You have a point.”

“It’s probably your best bet. The entire city loves Juska right now, and you might as well get something from it.”

“That’s a bit cutthroat.”

She gave him a wide grin. “It’s just business.”

Talk after that turned back to uselessness, and they settled in to enjoy their meal. Niranye was soon regaling him with tales of the terrible customers she’d been dealing with that week, and had Fandelmar laughing so hard that his stomach hurt.

“I’m telling you, these Nords need to learn there are other colors besides blue!” 

This kept Fandelmar laughing until a voice sounded from behind him.

“Fandelmar?”

He turned and found Juska, looking very pretty in her new blue dress, standing and staring at them. He immediately felt terrible for laughing at Niranye’s story. Gods. At least she wouldn’t have been able to understand what they were saying.

“Juska!” He rose and turned to her.

She frowned over at Niranye. “What are you doing?”

“Having lunch,” Niranye replied.

He did not like the way the two women were eyeing each other. “Do you need me for something?”

Juska shook her head. “No. I stopped by the inn to see if you wanted to eat with me, but you weren’t there. I’m just here to drop something off from the shop for the owner.” She indicated a small bag in her hand.

“Let me walk back with you,” he said. “I can keep you company while you eat.”

“It’s fine. I’ll see you tonight.”

Fandelmar frowned at her as she gave the owner the package. She left without so much as looking his way again. He turned back to Niranye, who was shaking her head.

“You’re in for it tonight.”

He sighed through his nose and changed the subject. “Let me pay for lunch.”

Niranye waved him off. “I can cover us. You’ve got bigger problems.”

“Thank you for the help.”

“Don’t mention it.” Her eyes suggested she meant this literally.

Fandelmar made the short walk back to the inn in the hopes of catching Juska, but it appeared as though she had already returned to work. He wasn’t certain why she was upset, but his instincts told him not to go find her. Instead, he went back out onto the street and began wandering, looking for a bookstore. He knew that he’d seen one in the Grey Quarter at some point, but he couldn’t remember exactly where it was. 

It took a few minutes, but he eventually found it, tucked away in a tiny corner store near the city’s outer wall. The path to the door had been dug out from a massive snow drift, which was holding its own against the warmer weather rather well. The snow partially covered the shop’s windows, so when he entered he found the interior very dim. 

“Hello?” 

An elderly Dunmer man gave him a small wave from behind a counter stacked with books. “Are you looking for anything specific?”

“I’m just browsing,” Fandelmar said.

“Good. I wouldn’t be able to help you find anything, anyway.” He chuckled as he gestured at the overflowing shelves. “Happy hunting.”

Time got away from him for the next while. Sorting through the stacks and stacks of books proved almost endlessly entertaining, and by the time he had collected a small pile of his own, the store was nearly too dark to see inside. The sun was setting. Juska would be done with work soon.

Fandelmar moved to the counter to pay for his finds and spent a few minutes haggling with the owner. Once the price was down to something he didn’t feel too guilty for paying, he handed over his coin and collected his spoils. That done, he began the walk back to the inn.

When he let himself into their room, he found that he had beaten Juska home. He laid his purchases on his bedside table, then settled onto the bed to read. By the time he had made it through the first chapter, Juska had let herself in.

“Hey,” she said.

He smiled at her. “Welcome back, Juska.”

She studied him for a moment, and then walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Fandelmar closed his book and reached out to lightly tug on one of her beaded braids. “I didn’t mean to miss having lunch with you.”

She sank back onto the bed and looked up at him with very blue eyes. “What were you doing?”

“Trying to find a way to learn how my grandfather is doing. Niranye… knows people in town who may be able to help.”

Juska re-situated herself so that she could use one of his thighs as a pillow. “Yeah?”

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the headboard. “She recommended a family of traders who sometimes… it sounds like they are smugglers.”

“Gods.” There was a pause. “She’s probably right, though.”

Fandelmar sighed and ran his hand over her hair. “She said that the family lost a daughter to the Butcher.”

“Oh.”

“...She thinks they might cut us a deal if you talk to them, because of what you did.”

“ _Gods_.” 

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Who are they? I can try to talk to them.”

“The Shatter-Shields, apparently. I would appreciate it.”

Juska reached up and ran a hand down his arm. “Okay. I’ll ask tomorrow if I can.”

Fandelmar smiled at her. “I also have a bit of good news. I have presents.” 

At this, Juska sat up and faced him, crossing her legs and bumping her knees with his. “Yeah?”

He reached to the bedside table and handed over the small stack of books. “I thought that your sister might like these.”

She spent a moment inspecting the titles before breaking into a wide grin. “Yeah. Yeah, she’ll love these. Gods, Fandelmar.” She stretched over to give him a kiss. “I barely even told you about that.”

Fandelmar shrugged.

Juska stacked the books into a tidy pile beside her knee. She was chewing on her lip, so he waited for her to speak. 

“Hey, what’s your grandfather’s name?”

“Fandil. My father named me for him.”

“I feel like I should have asked that sooner.”

Fandelmar held his arms open, and she rearranged herself so that she could snuggle up against his chest. Once she was situated, he pressed a kiss to her temple. 

“I don’t speak of him often. And I believe that when I mentioned him initially, we weren’t even friends.”

She linked her fingers with his. “I think we were, actually. That was our problem.”

Fandelmar laughed hard enough at this to make her shake, which set her giggling, as well. “You have a point.”

“I get those occasionally.” Juska relaxed back against him and closed her eyes. “Thank you for the books. I’ll give them to Sven at dinner.”

“Has he said anything about going back yet?”

“No. Hopefully he stays a few more days, though. I mean… you don’t mind, right?”

He gave her a light squeeze. “I appreciate that he is trying to like me, despite everything.”

“Well, you are very likable, despite everything.” 

Fandelmar laughed again, but stopped when he realized she had grown suddenly serious. 

“We need to find a place,” she said.

“You are correct.”

“Ruvene says she has a spare room over the shop, but that doesn’t seem big enough.”

“It isn’t? I’m not sure we can be too picky.”

“Nah. We’re doing okay for ourselves now.” She squeezed his hand again. “I want to have my own kitchen so I can cook for you.”

This made Fandelmar smile. It had been a very long time since anyone had cooked for him. He took a moment to study her, which she allowed only briefly.

“What?”

“How would you feel about potentially being in contact with my grandfather?”

She took a deep breath. “You mean, like writing him myself? _Terrified.”_

“Why?”

“He’s important to you. I want him to like me.” She turned her head to look at him sideways. “My handwriting is shit. And… age, again. I feel really bad saying that.”

Fandelmar grinned at her. “He is  _very_ old, Juska.”

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. 

“I was nervous about meeting your brother.”

“I know.” Her voice was muffled. “And he handled that like shit.”

“Come here.” He gently detangled her from her hands. “We managed that. We will continue to manage.”

Juska gave him a little nod, and then looked to the window. “Speaking of. Want to go manage dinner? Sven will probably be downstairs soon.”

“Alright.” Fandelmar helped her to her feet, and then rose after her. “Lead on.”

He took a moment to watch her as she moved for the door, trying to see her as his grandfather might. It quickly proved impossible, however. Knowing her had changed him too fundamentally. 

...Though, he supposed that was also an answer to his question.

“You coming?” She turned to smile at him.

“Yes.” He started for the door. “I am right behind you.”


	30. Juska

Juska found it difficult to speak with the Shatter-Shields, but not for the reasons she had been expecting. They lived just off the Stone Quarter market, it turned out, and so while she was tracking them down, she was in plain sight of Niranye. The tight smile the High Elf gave her when they met eyes made her feel both insecure and very, very guilty for how she had acted the day before.

Gods. She needed to figure that out. But first, she needed to help Fandelmar learn how his grandfather was doing. Juska ran her hands over her hair, smoothed the skirt of her dress, and knocked on the door to the Shatter-Shield home.

A red-eyed, tired-looking older Nord opened the door and clutched at an Amulet of Arkay around her neck. “Yes?”

“Hi, uh. I’m Juska. Is this the Shatter-Shield residence?”

The woman’s eyes widened slightly. “It’s you. Y-yes. I’m Tova Shatter-Shield. Would you like to come in?”

It was Juska’s turn for wide eyes. She’d never been in a house this big. “Uh, sure.”

Tova stepped aside, and Juska realized that if the fur lining the neck of her dress hadn’t given away that these Nords were swimming in money, the house itself definitely would have. Talos’ tits, these people liked wine. She was led into the _upstairs_ living room, passing several other rooms along the way, all of which were bigger than any room she’d ever stayed in. 

By the time they were sitting beside the fire, Juska was so nervy that her hands were shaking slightly.

“What can I do for you, Juska?”

She felt her fingers dig into the skirt of her dress and forced herself to relax. “Um. Well, I know your family runs a shipping company. I was wondering if any of your routes head for Auridon?”

Tova gave a small nod. “Yes. Why, do you need something sent there?”

“Well, no, we—I was actually hoping to find out if someone living there is still, uh, living.” 

The other Nord clutched at her amulet again. “Family of yours?”

Juska nodded. “Yes.” 

Tova looked into the fire for a few seconds as she considered. When she spoke, she was still gazing at the flames. “Speak with Suvaris Atheron at our shipping office on the docks. Tell her that whatever you need, I said to make happen. I’ll send down a note telling her to expect you.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Juska said. “What do I owe you for this?”

The other Nordess just shook her head. “Consider it more of a repayment for making Windhelm safe again for its women. I only wish—” her voice broke, and Juska stared hard at the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” Tova said with a bit more composure. “I feel a headache coming on. Can you see yourself out?”

Juska immediately rose. “Yes. Thank you so much, ma’am.”

And with that, Juska fled the house, trying to ignore the feeling that she was covered in grime. All of these people kept thanking her for catching the Butcher, but she hadn’t done it for any of them. If Fandelmar hadn’t been arrested, the man might still be out killing women. Their gratitude always made her feel like the worst person in the world, but this was the first time she’d ever gone in with the intention to profit from their emotions. She didn’t like it, but she’d done it to help Fandelmar, and at least it seemed like that had worked. 

She began a brisk walk back to the Grey Quarter to check in with Ruvene for the day, smiling and waving at a few people she recognized along the way. When she saw Thorgold standing at the entrance to the quarter, she scowled and picked up the pace, attempting to breeze past him. It seemed like she was going to pass without problem; then, he stepped in front of her at the last second, nearly making her collide with him.

“Hey, elf-lover.”

Juska inclined her head and stared hard at his face.

“Just wanted to let you know to enjoy things while you can.”

“I’ll take my life lessons from someone else, thanks.”

His expression darkened. “You’re going to regret that you were ever with him, soon.”

Juska shook her head and went to step around him. This time, he let her pass, but as she moved by, she could feel him smiling down at her.

Gods. That was something she wouldn’t be telling Fandelmar about. The last thing he needed was more reason to fear the man. But what could he really do that was worse than what he had already? She picked up the pace, and made it to the shop without another incident.

“Morning, Ruvene!” 

Her mentor looked up from the shop ledger and smiled. “Good morning, Juska. How are you?”

“Uh. Any chance you need anything collected today? I could stand to clear my head.”

Ruvene laughed a little as she turned a page. “That well, huh? You’re in luck. We need to start stocking up on a few local plants. The insects we’ll need should be hatching soon, so keep an eye out for standing water as you work today. That will help us later.” She left the ledger and moved to her parchment and quill to begin writing a list. “You have your herb book with you today? One or two of these are trickier than usual.”

Juska nodded and patted her satchel. “Right here.”

Ruvene sprinkled drying powder over the list, then passed it over. “That will keep you busy long enough to clear your head, I hope. Take lunch after, and then come back so we can start potion work for the day.”

“Will do.” Juska ran her eyes down the list, and immediately saw the ones Ruvene thought she’d need a manual to identify. She might be out for a while getting all these.

“Back soon!” she called, and left the store to make for the main gate. 

Juska was just about to cross the bridge when Bjorni caught her attention. His face looked serious, so she stopped and approached him. “What’s up?”

His voice was low. “Is it true the elf you’re with is a Thalmor?”

“What?” Juska scoffed. “ _No.”_

“Then why was some guy yelling that he was in the middle of Candlehearth Hall?”

“That ‘guy’ was my idiot brother, being racist. He’s had to work through a few things on his visit with us.”

Bjorni considered this. “So it was more of a ‘my sister is with a High Elf and I don’t like it’ sort of yelling than ‘I actually know what I’m talking about’ yelling.”

“Yeah,” she lied. 

“Alright.” He shrugged. “Be careful for a few days, though. Word is traveling fast.”

“Sweet gods.” Juska rubbed at her forehead. “That is the last thing we need. Thanks for the warning, Bjorni.”

She turned for the bridge, feeling less enthusiastic about her trip out than she had been moments before. Fuck. What if Sven’s outburst got Fandelmar in trouble again? Maybe she should have done the first meeting alone and given her brother a chance to come to terms with it before throwing the two of them in public together. This she _would_ be telling Fandelmar, she decided. Being a suspected Thalmor in Ulfric’s hold was not good.

Gathering reagents, at least, proved to be soothing. That wasn’t unusual. She took her time, checking her book again and again to verify that she was collecting the right plants, and forced her brain to focus on Niranye. What about that woman set her off so badly?

It took her a bit to work out the problem, and once she had, she felt her cheeks flush scarlet. Gods, it wasn’t Niranye at all. 

“I’m a fucking idiot,” she muttered to the Dragon’s Tongue she was collecting. An idiot who needed to fess up to Fandelmar about why she’d freaked out on him yesterday. Maybe talking about it would make her feel better. It usually did, with him.

Juska flipped her satchel closed and moved back toward town. She would spend her lunch talking to Suvaris Athelon, then get back to work. She could pick back up on being a complete idiot again afterward.

****

 

When Juska let herself into their room later that night, Fandelmar was sitting on their bed, reading a book. She smiled at him to hide the fact that her heart was pounding, but he frowned at her anyway.

“Juska?” He flipped his book shut and rested it on his lap. His long fingers absently ran across the cover as he looked at her.

“Hey,” she said. 

“Is something the matter?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

He nodded. “Alright. Sit with me?” He shifted toward the middle of the bed to make room for her beside him.

Once she had settled in, she sighed and looked down at her hands. “I thought I had a problem with Niranye, but I don’t.”

Fandelmar slipped an arm around her shoulders. “No?”

“No. I think any High Elf woman would make me feel as insecure as she does.”

He made a thoughtful noise. “Why do you think so?”

"Do you remember how you felt that day you freaked out about Bjorni in the market?"

"Yes," he admitted, "though it has been a while since he could spark that reaction." 

"What changed?"

"We became a couple." Fandelmar kissed her temple. 

Juska sighed and leaned into his side. "And yet I still freak out." 

She looked at his face and found his brow had furrowed. "Do you not trust me, Juska?"

"Gods! No, I trust you. I guess I just…." She tried to find words that didn't suck. "It's more like I compare myself to a High Elf woman and then don't feel like enough," she said in a rush. "I'm just some uneducated hick from the poor side of town in a backwater country, who has barely seen anything in her life so far."

"I don't think either of us know Niranye well enough for comparison."

"It's not Niranye I'm comparing myself to, not really."

"Who, then?"

"Your wife," she managed, though she winced as she said the words. 

"Ah." Fandelmar ran his fingers through his hair. "I was wondering if this would ever come up." 

"Yeah?"

"Yes." He gave her a serious look. "Juska, I loved Arianwe dearly. I did. But I see no need to compare the two of you, because I happen to like who _you_ are." 

“But you’re going to outlive me. That wouldn’t happen with a High Elf woman.”

He shook his head. “I have considered that, as well. But there is no way to know that for sure. I could get very unlucky on a job one day.”

"...I just don't want you to regret being with me."

Fandelmar chuckled. "You would have to go out of your way to make that happen."

"Even if I told you that my brother accidentally started a rumor that you're a Thalmor because of his outburst in Candlehearth Hall?"

"Even then. That rumor has existed in some form or another since we arrived, Juska. Thorgold has been accusing me of it since the beginning. Any damage Sven could do has already been done."

Juska began chewing on her lip. "Maybe."

"But you're distracting from the point."

"Which is?"

He kissed her temple. "That you are a wonderful woman, despite your doubts, and that I'm happy to have met you."

Juska felt her cheeks flush. "Thank you." She nestled against his side and was quiet for a few moments. 

"Anything else we should talk about while we're here?" Fandelmar brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"Yeah. The Shatter-Shields are going to look into finding your grandfather. The woman I'm working with says if you want to send a letter along, to get it to her fast."

She felt his breath catch. "I'll get something down while you're hunting in the morning."

Juska nodded. "She also insinuated that they could have work for you, guarding their warehouse. They're in the middle of a feud with another trading company."

"Hm. That sounds a little shady."

"It probably is. The feud, anyway."

"I'll think about it." He kissed her temple and then not-so-subtly changed the subject. "Are we doing dinner with your brother tonight?"

"I think so. I ran into him this morning when I was looking for the Shatter-Shields. I think he's having a bad day."

"Any particular reason?"

Juska sighed. "Our parents." 

"Ah. I suspect they are still not my biggest supporters."

"No. He's trying to get them to at least let me write the girls."

Fandelmar frowned. "You should be allowed to. They're being punished for something they don't understand, otherwise." 

"Yeah." Juska took a deep breath, then turned her attention on getting closer to him. "Hold me until dinner?"

He smiled at her. "Of course." She settled in against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. His fingers began running over her hair, and soon she felt her eyes lidding heavily. 

"You're always so good at making me feel better."

Fandelmar pressed another kiss to her temple. "I try, Juska."

She slid her fingers up his arm to feel his skin, and then let herself enjoy just being with him for a while.


	31. Fandelmar

Juska was so busy over the next few days that Fandelmar felt a little useless. He was staying in town so that he could spend time with her brother, but watching her go from hunting, to alchemy, to family, and then to seeking new lodging made him intensely aware that he was spending a great deal of time reading books. 

Fandelmar let this continue for two days before making the trip to the Shatter-Shield’s office and following up on their offer for work. They reiterated that they needed blades to guard their warehouses, and also mentioned that many of their ships were looking for protection. He was unwilling to sign up for a full voyage, because it would keep him away from Juska for too long. And, if anything were to happen to her while he was gone, she would be unable to reach him. 

The dock work, however, he was certainly willing and able to complete. It was a night shift, which was less than ideal, but the pay was good. And, more importantly, it would directly aid the people who were searching for his grandfather. Anything that he could do to make that a priority for them, he would.

Juska was unhappy when she learned that Fandelmar would be gone a few nights a week. He was not pleased with the arrangement, either, because nighttime was best spent tangled against her. The feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, and the strength of her body were all going to be missed while he was away. But they needed the money, and any work that was local was better than most alternatives.

Guarding the Shatter-Shield’s goods was painfully boring, but it leveraged a surprising amount of skills he had developed as a Thalmor. Standing for hours and waiting, in particular. The other mercenaries he was paired with did not handle the lack of action with grace. Several of them, in fact, arrived to their posts nearly blind drunk more than once. Fandelmar suspected that it would be easy to distinguish himself as a reliable worker, given his fellows.

The same day that news found Windhelm that the Empire had fallen back to Solitude, Juska came home breathless at lunchtime and declared that she had found the “perfect place” for them to live. She swept Fandelmar out of their room and onto the street so quickly that he almost forgot to put his book down.

“It’s over this way,” she said, turning down a side street. “The owners run a shop in the bottom but live with family, so the top floor is for rent.” 

They wove around a street vendor’s stall and made another turn. “What sort of shop?” Fandelmar asked.

Juska laughed. “Gods, it’s a bakery. It smells _amazing_ in the morning when they’ve got the ovens full.”

He smiled. “We will be constantly hungry, Juska.”

She took his hand and tugged him through an unassuming door. Once his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he saw that they were in a small bakery. Behind the counter, where two Dunmeri stood talking, baskets of various breads were piled high. 

“Hey,” Juska said. “Okay if I take him up to see the rooms?”

The woman nodded. “Of course! Take your time.”

Juska tugged on his hand and led him through the shop to a small set of stairs in the back corner. They were narrow, and steeper than was probably wise. One near the top creaked loudly beneath his feet as they approached the door. 

“They left it unlocked for us.” She shoved the door open with her shoulder and stepped up into the main room. Fandelmar followed after, and gave himself a moment to look around.

The floorboards were worn, but still serviceable. To the right stood a fireplace with a heavy cooking pot, storage bins, a wash basin for laundry and dishes, and other kitchen essentials. There was no other furniture in the room, but he could tell that there was sufficient space to their left for a dining room table. In front of them, against the far wall, were two doors.

“The left room has better light.” Juska took a few steps to cross the room and opened it up. “I think it could be a good bedroom.”

He followed after her, waiting as she opened the shutters that covered the windows on the room’s outer walls. Once they were open, the room was filled with indirect, but bright light. The interior was bare, but there would easily be room for a bed and wardrobe. Bookshelves could fit under the windows, as well. There were a few flaws in the plaster covering the inner walls that would need patching, but that was simple enough to do.

Fandelmar smiled at Juska. “This is perfect.”

She beamed at him. “We’ll obviously need furniture, but....”

“I have built a house before. I can supply the furniture, assuming you are not overly picky.”

Juska stepped in close and wrapped her arms around his middle. “That might be the cutest thing you have ever said.”

He ran a hand over her hair. “I doubt that I am often ‘cute,’ so you must be correct.”

She kissed his cheek. “Let me show you the other room.”

When she began walking for it, he followed after her. “Why do we need a second room?”

Juska shrugged as she opened the door. “It’s just… good to have the space. We could put a bathtub in here, maybe.”

He stepped in behind her and inspected the room. It was in much the same condition as its twin, though the only window was on the back wall because of its position in the building. “I have not had a room meant specifically for bathing in a very long time.”

“And I never have, so it’s perfect.”

Fandelmar walked back into the main room for a second look. Juska stood beside him in silence for a few moments, before taking his hand and asking, “so, should we rent it?”

“Assuming it is something we can afford.”

“It is. We’ll have to start paying for food again, but even with that we should be fine, especially if you keep working.”

“Which I will.”

She leaned against his side and sighed. “I don’t want to tell Neloth, though.”

“I’ve already spoken with him about the possibility of us leaving. He is happy for us, and is working on finding a new source for his meat supply.”

“...Thank you for doing that.”

“I have had a great deal of practice delivering unwelcome news.” 

When Juska laughed, he smiled and pulled her closer to his side. 

“Okay. I’ll tell the owners that we’ll happily rent the place.” She detached herself from his side and ran down the stairs, which creaked loudly as she descended.

Fandelmar took a moment alone in the rooms. Though he almost never allowed himself to do so, he found himself comparing the home he had built with his new living situation. The apartment was comparatively worn, and had less natural light, but he found that he did not mind in the slightest. Being here would make Juska happy, which made him happy in turn.

Also, he thought as he did one last inspection, it might feel good to repair and improve the rooms. His grandfather had taught him how to patch walls several decades ago, and he remembered finding the process soothing. 

They could be happy here. And so, the rooms were perfect. 

Juska ordered them bottles of mead at dinner in Candlehearth Hall to celebrate, and pushed a glass into Fandelmar’s hands despite his protests. Sven was with them, trying very hard not to be upset that his sister was officially moving in with a ‘High Elf.’ Since Fandelmar was grateful for his repeated attempts to be civil, he steered the conversation away from their lodging change as much as possible. 

Eventually, Juska’s excitement settled into a determination to have Fandelmar consume as much mead as possible during their dinner. He found mead to be overly sweet and far, far too strong, and his constant protests and reluctant sips had Sven laughing more than was probably polite. Still, she managed to get an entire tankard down him, which left the room spinning slightly. His dissatisfaction with that fact was tempered by the realization that this had made Sven more comfortable with him.

Soon the three of them were chatting loudly over their dinner. Fandelmar was drifting pleasantly on the booze, alternating between thoughts of how he and Juska would celebrate that he had time off tonight, and thoughts about how Sven was actually easier to deal with when drunk, when a sight out of the corner of his eye rendered him immediately sober.

Thorgold was in the room. He was out of his armor and several tables away, but his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Fandelmar. 

Juska caught his gaze, followed it to its source, and immediately cursed and ducked her head. When Sven responded with confusion, Fandelmar licked at his lips.

“Take care with the town guard while you are here. They… don’t like me.”

Sven followed his gaze, and his face immediately darkened. “That man? He’s been perfectly friendly to me all day. This making things hard for Juska?”

“Yes,” Fandelmar admitted.

His face contorted briefly, then settled in to a frown. “They got a reason to hate you?”

Juska shoved at his shoulder. “Stop. No. It’s just racism.”

Fandelmar glanced back over at Thorgold and felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Need to go,” he managed.

When he rose, Juska caught his wrist. “Wait. I’ll come with you.” She rose and looked down at her brother. “Sorry, Sven. He’s just… I’ll tell you later.” 

They moved for the door, both ignoring her brother’s protestations. Thorgold, blessedly, did not follow.

Once they were out in the night air, Fandelmar paused and took several deep, gasping breaths. “I am sorry,” he muttered.

Juska ran a hand down his back. “No. Don’t be. He’s vile.” She took his hand and began leading him for the Grey Quarter. “Come on. Everything will be fine once we get home.”

Visions of his plans for her rose to the forefront of his mind again, but when he backed her against a wall somewhere between Candlehearth Hall and their own inn, she laughed a bit breathlessly and tugged on his hair. “That’s the mead. C’mon. Back home, love.”

It took several hours of sobriety for him to understand why his heart skipped a beat after that.

 

****

When morning broke, Fandelmar woke to the realization that he _hated_ sunlight. As Juska rose, he pulled the covers over his head and groaned.

“I’m thinking maybe next time, mead’s a bad idea for you,” she said as she wrapped herself in her furs.

The sound of her voice made him feel ill. “I am going to die,” he declared.

Juska only laughed. “Drink a lot of water. Have meat for breakfast. I’ll be back.”

Once she was gone and was incapable of judging, Fandelmar took her advice and began drinking water. Several times over the next hour, he came close to losing it, but by the time she had returned from hunting, their night of drinking had settled into a piercing headache and several unwelcome images of Thorgold.

Juska took one look at him and laughed. “Talos’ tits, if I’d known you were a lightweight, I would have kept you drinking wine.”

Fandelmar glowered in her general direction. “Hush, witch.”

“Witch?!” she cackled. “This witch is off to work. Maybe start moving us to the new place? I’ll pay them before I meet up with Ruvene.”

He blinked at her a few times. “Okay.”

She snorted. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, and pulled the covers back over his head.

Her laughter made his head feel like it was about to crack. “See you for lunch!” 

With that, she was gone, and the room descended into silence. Fandelmar wished that this room had shuttered windows like the apartment’s rooms had. He settled for covering his eyes with his arm and focused his attention on feeling like a mer again. 

By the time Juska had returned and brought lunch to their room, Fandelmar was capable of sitting upright and eating. By dinner, he made it down to the main room, where Sven joined them. He seemed amused by how poorly Fandelmar was still doing, but there was no real malice behind the emotion. And so, dinner proved to be pleasant.

As promised, Fandelmar moved their belongings to the new apartment the next morning. He bought them bedding, since they would need someplace to sleep, and then spent the next two days building them a bed. It was a slow process, as he had only built two others over the course of his life, but the end result was not unattractive. As Juska proved that night, it was also sturdy. 

A few days later, Sven surprised Fandelmar by offering to help make more furniture for their new space. They had run into one another in the Stone Quarter market, where Fandelmar had been purchasing additional tools and materials from the blacksmith. 

“You got a dining set yet?” he asked. When Fandelmar shook his head, Sven replied, “You will by dinnertime. Let’s go.”

Sven was good on his word, and so that night they bought food from Neloth and walked back to the apartment to eat on the new furniture. Juska was nearly beside herself with glee that the two of them had worked on it together. 

“That’s such a good memory to start us out,” she said.

That became the pattern of the days when Fandelmar was not due to work at the docks. Now that the two of them knew that they could spend time alone without it going wrong, Sven and Fandelmar built much of what the apartment needed. Bookshelves came next. The wardrobe proved to be a bit of a learning experience, since the styles the two of them knew varied wildly, but the end result was both level and serviceable, so they considered it a success. 

Money came in steadily from their jobs, and so their new lodgings progressed apace. Both of them knew that it might be a waste of funds, since they could in theory be driven out of the city at any moment, but the comfort seemed worth the risk. By the time Fandelmar had risen to leave for his dock shift a month later, they had accumulated enough household items for Juska to both cook and serve them dinner. For once, she had Sven fend for himself for a meal, and the two of them sat down at their table to eat alone.

“I’ve been looking forward to this for  _months_.” She grinned and passed him over a vegetable stew in one of their new clay bowls.

Fandelmar tasted it, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was delicious. “I’m so used to you cooking meat,” he told her. “But this is wonderful.”

Juska laughed. “That’s exactly why this dinner is meatless.”

He left for his shift in high spirits, despite knowing that the next several hours were going to involve a great deal of standing and staring. It was surprising how much having a space of his own was improving the other aspects of his daily life. Though, he supposed that it really shouldn’t be, since he had spent the past several decades moving from one barracks to another. It had been a very long time since he’d had a place to really call “home.” The closest one that came to mind was how his short visits with his grandfather had felt when he was on leave.

The next two months passed quickly. Sven remained in town, though Juska was now paying for his lodging. Fandelmar had suggested that they let her brother stay in the second room, since it had not yet been completed, but Juska had flushed a deep pink.

“I don’t want my brother hearing us at night.”

“Ah. That is… understandable.”

She chewed on her lip. “Is it okay if he eats with us, though? That will save some coin.”

“Of course, Juska.” He was currently paying for their food, but adding another mouth at the dinner table would not be problematic with as well as he was being paid.

It had been three months since the Shatter-Shields agreed to search for his grandfather before any word came. Fandelmar walked into the office to make his way for their cargo crates, and was surprised to see Suvaris Athelon motioning him over. She had a look on her face that he couldn’t quite place, but was very similar to discomfort.

“What can I do for you, Suvaris?”

“You’re the one who had us look into a mer named Fandil on Auridon, right?”

Fandelmar nodded and tried to ignore how every muscle in his body suddenly felt tense.

Suvaris frowned. “That ship just made it back.”

“Did they find any sign of him?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, but he seems to have passed.” She held out something that took him too long to identify as a letter. The letter he had written for his grandfather to read, to hopefully convince him that he had not been willingly abandoned. “I’m sorry,” Suvaris added.

Fandelmar took the letter from her and stared at it for several moments. “Do they know… how?”

“I’m told he was found by the family that had been caring for him. He went in his sleep, if that is any consolation.”

“...It is.” He felt like there was something else he was supposed to say, and as a result spent several seconds staring blankly at the Dunmer’s face.

“Look. I’m giving you the next few days off. You’re in no state to work.”

Fandelmar nodded at her, and finally remembered what he was meant to say. “Thank you for looking into this for me.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Go home. Rest.”

He turned without another word and began weaving his way back home, letter still clutched in his hand. His mind felt strangely empty, so much so that he almost didn’t notice when he walked into the main room of Neloth’s inn instead of into the bakery. He caught his mistake before making it to the stairs. Neloth was in the kitchen, so he was able to leave without needing to explain himself.

Once Fandelmar arrived to their apartment, he found the door locked. Juska must be out with Sven. He let himself in and began the process of removing his armor, setting it aside on its shelf by the door. The letter he stared for several moments before feeding to the kitchen fire. 

That done, he walked for the bedroom, lay down on the bed, and pulled his knees to his chest. The darkness of the room and the relief of being alone meant that he was able to slip away into the mounting despair in his middle with incredible ease. 

Time passed, but he remained immobile in the dark. 


	32. Juska

Juska came back from perusing letters from her family with her brother and let herself into the bakery, taking a moment to stop and enjoy the smell of bread. She hadn’t bothered baking since moving in, because she knew that nothing she made would be as good as what was being sold by her landlords downstairs. 

She creaked her way up the staircase to their little home and let herself in. Since Fandelmar was at work, the rooms were dark; the fire had burned low, and no candles were lit. She lit a punk in the fireplace and fixed this problem before moving into what was slowly becoming their washroom to brush out her hair and clean her face and hands. It was surprising how much she missed baths, but it was going to take a bit of work to get one, so they had agreed to tackle that problem last.

It wasn’t until she carried a candle into their bedroom to settle in for the night that she realized Fandelmar _wasn’t_ at work. He was lying on the bed, curled in on himself, making it clear why he hadn’t called out to her when she came in. Something was wrong.

“Fandelmar?”

He didn’t respond, so she set the candle down and sat on the bed beside him. When she reached out to touch his shoulder, he stirred enough to pull her close. They ended up on their sides, facing each other. She had her hand on his shoulder, and one of his eased over her waist as he pressed their foreheads together.

“Juska.” He opened his eyes, and she didn’t like what she saw in them.

She realized that she was chewing on her lip, but for once, he didn’t stop her. “Fandelmar, what’s wrong?” 

He took a deep breath. “My… my grandfather is gone.”

Her fingers dug into his shoulder as she processed what he had just said. “Oh, sweet gods. Do you—did they say what happened?”

“He passed in his sleep, apparently.” His voice was dull.

She hooked her leg over him to pull him closer and ran her hand over his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“He was very old.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt less.”

Fandelmar’s eyes closed heavily. “I don’t want to know what he thought of me at the end. I wrote a letter, to explain, but….” 

“He may not have known initially, but he does now. He knows you love him and didn’t abandon him.”

“I hope so.”

“And he’s with your family.”

Fandelmar opened his eyes again and gave her a soft smile. “Your faith never ceases to amaze me.”

Juska chewed on her lip. “I know his afterlife’s not the same as mine. I’m a Nord. I go to Sovngarde. But there’s a place like that for High Elves, right?”

“The general belief is that we return to Aetherius to be with the Aedra.”

“Then your family _is_ all together. That’s good.”

Fandelmar gave her a small kiss. Juska spent a few minutes holding him and petting his hair before she spoke again.

“Let’s go to bed. Sleep won’t fix it, but it will give your mind a break.”

“Alright.” 

Juska helped him sit up and remove his shirt, then took off her dress before pulling back the covers and slipping in. Once she was settled, she held out her arms, and he climbed into the bed and let her hold him close. Judging by his breathing, he was asleep almost immediately. She kept him close as she lay awake, trying to sort through her racing thoughts.

The urge to cry was strong, but she didn’t let herself. Fandelmar was asleep, for one, and for another, if she cried she would be making Fandil’s death about her. That wasn’t fair, no matter how guilty she felt.

She studied Fandelmar as he slept, wondering at the fact that he could even look at her, let alone willingly sleep beside her. Yet again, the feeling that she had ruined his life came boiling to the surface of her mind. He had told her repeatedly that it wasn’t her fault, but…. If she had just told her father what was going on and dealt with his wrath, Fandelmar would still be working, and would have been writing with his grandfather this entire time. And she would have her family, too. 

But they wouldn’t be _here_ , together. So which was more important: contact with family, or being with each other? Her guilt said that family should always come first, but her heart insisted that what had happened was right for them, no matter how hard it had been. If losing some of her family was worth it for Fandelmar, then she shouldn’t feel guilty if he felt the same way. 

Except the rest of her family might come around eventually, like Sven had. Fandil was _gone_.   

It took a long, long time to fall asleep, and so she broke several vials at work the next day. Ruvene looked at her more than once in concern, but didn’t say anything. She had never been more grateful for her mentor’s reserve. Still, after the third pile of glass was being swept off the shop floor, Juska felt that she owed her an explanation.

“I’m so sorry. We learned last night that Fandelmar’s grandfather has passed away. I didn’t get much sleep.”

A deep frown furrowed Ruvene’s face. “Juska, you should go home.”

She licked her lips. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. The shop will still be here in a few days.”

“So it’s okay if I’m scarce for a little while?”

Ruvene walked over and took the broom out of her hands. “I insist on it.”

Juska had enough presence of mind to wonder who Ruvene had lost as she hurried out of the store. Her first stop was to find Sven at the inn and tell him what had happened, so that he would know why they weren’t going to be around for dinner the next couple of days. He seemed a little distracted, but she rushed back to the Grey Quarter without asking why. By the time she re-entered the bakery, her mind was completely focused on Fandelmar. She knew him well enough by now to be sure that he wouldn’t have eaten, so she stopped at the counter.

“Could I get something savory, please?”

Ethys, the male Dark Elf who ran the bakery, smiled as he turned to face her. “Good morning, Juska. Bread, or pastry?”

“Oh. Sorry. Pastry.”

He wrapped his selection in a fold of paper before handing it out.  “Is everything alright?”

Juska handed over a coin. “No. We got some bad news last night.”

Ethys frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. I need to go check on him, but we’ll talk more later, yeah?”

“You know where I’ll be.” He smiled again. Juska returned it briefly before darting up the stairs.

She called Fandelmar’s name as she entered the apartment and saw that the bedroom windows were tightly shuttered. His voice drifted toward her from the bed, sounding softer than ever. Pastry in hand, she moved to sit beside him.

“Hey.”

He blinked at her. “You’re back early?”

“Yeah. You haven’t had anything to eat, have you?”

“I am not hungry.” 

“Please eat something for me.”

He studied her for several seconds before replying. “Alright.”

“I got you…” she paused and opened the paper to sniff. “A cheesy herbed pastry.”

This earned her the faintest of smiles. He rose to a sitting position. “Do I need to eat at the table?”

Juska shook her head. “We can stay in bed all day if you like. But just today, okay?”

He gave her a slow nod. “You are probably right. Wallowing isn’t going to help anything.”

“But a day of rest won’t hurt anything, either.” She offered out breakfast. When Fandelmar took it, she settled onto the bed beside him. 

He took a bite, then a slightly larger one. “Mm. This was a good choice.”

“I pay attention to what you like.” She leaned over slightly and rested her head on his shoulder.

He ate half of it before setting it aside. “I think that is all I can manage.”

She kissed his shoulder. “So long as some of it got eaten.”

Juska made good on her promise that they could stay in bed all day if he wanted. Fandelmar spent most of it asleep, or just drowsing against her while she read. She did her best to make it clear that she was available if he wanted to talk, but it seemed like what he needed was her touch more than anything else. So she kept a hand running through his hair as she slowly worked her way through her book. When night fell, she undressed and climbed in to sleep, and was unsurprised when he pulled her against him before closing his eyes again. 

This was just like when they were fleeing Markarth, she realized. At the time, she hadn’t realized just how upset he was, but now that she knew him better, she wondered how it hadn’t been clear to her. At least she understood now. If physical contact was what he needed, she was more than happy to oblige. 

She could tell by his breathing that he was asleep again, so after pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, she did her best to follow suit.

 

****

When Juska woke the next morning, Fandelmar was tangled against her. His arm was under her back so that his hand could get to her far hip, and his leg was twined with one of hers. She could feel his hair on her shoulder, mingling with hers. She had a brief moment of contentment before she remembered what had happened. 

“Are you awake?” She kept her voice soft, in case he wasn’t.

After a moment, his eyes opened. Juska brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead.

“We need to be people today, love.”

He took a deep breath. “I am not sure I can work.”

“No. Not work. But get up, eat. Open the shutters. Maybe wash up.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

Neither of them made any move to detangle, which would have been funny under any other circumstances. Eventually, Juska coaxed him into a kiss, and managed to pull both of them into a sitting position by pulling back, which forced him to rise to maintain it.

Fandelmar laughed and chucked her under the chin. “Tricky.”

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll brush your hair.”

He rose obediently and followed her into the other room, where she made sure they both got cleaned up. Next, she insisted he put on fresh clothes and open the shutters on the windows. That done, he submitted himself for inspection, which earned him another kiss.

“Sit down at the table and keep me company while I make breakfast?”

“What are we having?”

“My favorite comfort food.” She dragged out their heavy iron skillet and settled it onto the fire grate to get it warming. As she continued, she added some butter to the skillet. “When I was sick and small, Ma would make this for me. Later, when the girls were sick, I’d make it for them.”

He made a thoughtful noise. “I get to try a family recipe? Intriguing.”

“It’s called sweet toast, but I promise it’s not what it sounds like.” Juska cut off four thick slices of the bread from the bakery, dipped them in egg, and then carefully placed them into the heated pan. Once they were settled and sizzling, she turned to collect their plates, but found Fandelmar had already beaten her to it. He walked over and held them out.

“Thank you.”

Once the bread was done cooking and smelled lovely and eggy and brown, she turned two slices each onto their plates before covering them with the lightest dusting of cinnamon and sugar. That done, she moved for the dining table, and they settled in to eat.

She offered a plate to Fandelmar. “I promise it’s not too sweet. I put honey on mine sometimes, when we were lucky enough to have it, but it’s good without.”

He took a bite, then made a pleased noise. “This is delicious.”

Juska smiled down at her plate as she cut her first bite. They spent a few moments eating in silence before Fandelmar looked up at her thoughtfully.

“And it doesn’t bother you to make a family recipe?”

She twirled her fork as she thought. “No. There are so many good memories associated with this that it completely blocks out the recent badness. It feels like… paying my respects to better times.” 

Fandelmar nodded to himself, then turned his attention to the food. To her pleasure, he cleaned his plate. After he had risen to collect their dishes to wash in the basin, he paused and looked down at her. 

“I should do that for my grandfather. Something that makes me remember time with him that was well spent.”

Juska beamed at him. “That sounds like a great idea. Does anything come to mind?”

He paused from rinsing the dishes and looked around the room. “Yes. Repairs. He was determined to make sure I knew how to patch or repair just about anything before I moved into my home.”

“...Could you teach me?”

Fandelmar focused on her face. “I could. Why?”

“I want to get to know him. If he taught you, and you teach me what he knew, then I will understand him a little better. And then when I do repairs, I’ll always think of him.”

“ _Juska_.” He blinked rapidly and tilted his face to the ceiling. She stepped in close, asking for a hug, and he squeezed her so tightly that it was difficult to breathe. Soon his face was pressed against her shoulder, and she was petting his hair.

“I will gladly teach you what I know.” His voice was muffled and sounded a little choked.

“Thank you.”

Once he was a bit more composed, they began to plan. They’d start with the wood that looked like it might give them splinters and work from there. Slowly, a list of things they could fix or improve formed, and after a short supply run, they were able to get started.

Fandelmar smiled very little during their work, but he wasn’t in bed in the dark. And, most importantly, good memories of his grandfather kept coming to mind, which she encouraged him to share as they worked. 

In the quiet moments between stories, she prayed to Talos. _Fandelmar deserves your attention, too. Please help him through this._


	33. Fandelmar

* * *

There was something soothing about making repairs to their new home. It gave Fandelmar a task to focus on instead of dwelling on the darkness that had tangled inside of him. And when Juska was working beside him, it also gave him a chance to teach, which he was surprised to find that he enjoyed very much. After turning their second room into a makeshift workshop, they spent a day sanding rough patches out of the wood floors, window sills, and shutters. On the second day, he showed her how to replace floor boards.

By the third day, Juska was back to her typical work schedule. His instinct was to wallow in bed, but Juska had forbidden him from doing so. Instead, Fandelmar tackled the holes in the plaster by himself. He was patching the last one in their bedroom when she came back from the alchemy shop earlier than usual.

“Fandelmar?” she called from the door. “Sven’s with me. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He rose from the floor and moved to the wash basin in the other room to clean his hands and put on a shirt. As he passed through the living area, he waved at Sven, who caught sight of him and began blinking rapidly.

Her brother’s voice carried faintly in toward Fandelmar as he murmured to Juska. “He is _very_ gold.”

Fandelmar laughed silently in time with Juska’s answering giggle. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Does he think we’re really pink?”

“I haven’t ever asked, actually.” Her voice grew louder. “Hey, honey, do Nords seem really pink to you?”

Fandelmar pulled his shirt over his head, freed his hair from the collar, and walked back out to them. “Oh, pink as peonies.” When he grinned, she smacked his shoulder.

“Better to be a flower than a walking lemon.”

Fandelmar looked down at his arm. “I believe I am more squash-colored.”

Sven tried to frown, but ended up laughing through it. “You two are making fun of me.”

Juska squeezed his shoulder. “No, you just walked headfirst into a running joke. We’re mostly making fun of me. I was, uh, really distracted by his skin tone for a while.”

Her brother gave an awkward shrug. “I can see why. No offense, Fandelmar.”

“It just means you need to stay in Windhelm a bit longer. Get used to it.” In response to this, Juska began chewing on her lip, and Fandelmar immediately frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“We’re not sure….” She looked up at her brother.

“Ma and Pa aren’t writing anymore. They could just be sick of me yelling at them about you and Jus, or….”

Fandelmar and Juska locked eyes with one another. “Rumion,” he said immediately. “The Thalmor,” he elaborated to her brother.

“Rumion was his superior officer,” Juska explained to Sven. “But what are the chances that they’d move into Ulfric’s territory now that the Empire’s been pushed all the way back to Solitude?”

“Themselves? Slim. But hiring mercenaries to take captives to the embassy would not be beyond them. I honestly expected that they would try that tactic with _us_.”

“How would they even know where my family was?” Juska’s brow was furrowed. “Did my letter arrive opened?”

“Not that I could tell,” Sven replied. “Gods. I was hoping you would say it wasn’t the Thalmor, Fandelmar.” He turned for the door. “I need to go check on them.”

Juska grabbed his wrist. “No. You need to stay right here, in this apartment, and let us go.”

“Jus, this is my _family_ –”

_“Our_ family, and I’m not risking them taking you, too. Fandelmar and I can handle it. And if it turns out to be nothing, Ma and Pa can slam a door in my face. Everyone wins!”

“Going after family is a classic Thalmor tactic to lure out their fugitives, Juska,” Fandelmar said.

“And it’s working beautifully.” She moved for her furs and began putting them on. 

Fandelmar looked at his pack where it sat by the door, ready to go in case of emergency. There was no real option here, and the last thing he wanted was for Juska to lose family like he just had, without having received closure. He reached for his armor and began putting it on. 

Sven made a frustrated noise. “Take my horse, then.”

Juska looked up from putting on her boots. “When did _you_ get a horse?”

“When Gran loaned her to me, so don’t let her die.”

Instantly, the task before them felt less daunting. With a horse they would be able to gain ground quickly. The Thalmor transported prisoners on foot intentionally, so that they would arrive sore and exhausted. 

“We will need to move quickly,” he said. “If they make it to the embassy, we’ll have lost.”

Juska nodded grimly and moved to hug her brother. “We’ll write as soon as we know something. But you are staying right here. And please tell my boss what happened?”

“Sure.” Sven sighed. “At least I’ll have good bread while I wait.”

Fandelmar belted his Thalmor blade to his side and wondered if its last act would be killing Rumion. More bad blood. After this was over, he would be making getting a new sword a priority. 

“Ready?” Juska asked.

He shouldered his pack and nodded. With that, they left their apartment and made their way to the stable, where Sven’s horse was waiting, fat and happy after so much inaction. 

“Do you know the way?” he asked Juska. When she nodded, he gestured for the horse. “Then you should take front.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t ridden one of these things in forever.”

“Alright.” He clambered up and took the reins. “Thankfully, I have found that Nordic horses are generally steady stock. Much calmer than the ones I grew up riding.”

Juska swung up behind him and took him by the waist. “Gods. I hope Gran and the girls are okay.”

He took that as his cue to knee their steed into a trot. “How far are we going?”

“We should get there before dawn. I’ll tell you when to turn.” 

Fandelmar settled in for a long trek that was sure to leave him saddle-sore. They rode in silence for nearly an hour before Juska spoke again. 

“I’m an idiot.”

“I disagree, but why do you say so?”

“When I was thinking about writing the letter, I asked Talos if it would endanger us. I never asked if it would get _them_ in trouble.”

“We don’t know that it was the letter that caused this, Juska. Wait to take this blame for yourself.”

He heard her sigh, and felt her rest her forehead against the back of his armor. “Okay.”

Fandelmar reached down and lightly squeezed one of her hands. He understood her current headspace far better than he wished to. After his family had died, he had often found himself going back over what he could have done differently in the days leading up to the attack. He felt a bit sick as he hoped that this trip wouldn’t leave her with survivor’s guilt. That was something he would do anything to spare her from.

****

 

Riverwood proved to be the smallest town that Fandelmar had ever seen. It was dark, as well. Not only had they arrived at night, but aside from two torches flickering at the arch at the town edge, only the light of the moons lit the buildings. Even that was scarce, due to the place having an accurate name. To their right, the river. To their left, the wood.

Juska guided him to a house on the far edge of town before nearly falling off their horse in her haste to get to the door. She began banging on it, and Fandelmar stepped to join her as quickly as possible, just in case this proved to be a trap. 

The door opened as he neared, and a tall, white-haired Nordess stood inside it, holding a dagger out defensively. “You won’t get me, too!”

“Gran!” Juska threw her arms around the woman, who looked about to stab her. Thankfully, she recognized Juska before the knife came down. 

“Gran, are they gone? What happened?”

“I came back from shopping three days ago. The front door was open, and the girls–” Her voice broke, and she took a breath.

“Did anybody in town see what happened?” Fandelmar asked.

The old woman looked his way, and the knife came up again. Juska grabbed it out of her hand and tossed it into the house, where it hit the floor with a clatter.

“None of that! And I _know_ you know who he is, Gran.” The woman said nothing, so Juska continued: “When Sven stopped getting letters, we came to see what was wrong.”

“Whoever took them got the girls and your parents. The guards searched around the area, but couldn’t find anything.”

“I know where they will be headed,” Fandelmar said. The old woman refused to even look his way now, so he turned his attention back to Juska. “We should go. We’ll gain ground at night, because they will have camped.” 

She gave her grandmother another squeeze and began backing away. “Do me a favor. Write to Sven. He’s beside himself. Direct the courier to the bakery in the Grey Quarter.”

The woman nodded. “R-Right. I wanted to, but I had no idea where to send it. Your parents never mentioned where he was staying.”

And of course the racist old bird wouldn’t have written her elf-loving granddaughter about half their family being abducted. Fandelmar snorted and turned for the horse. He mounted up, and found that Juska wasn’t far behind him. 

“This road, it runs through the Reach and ends at Dragon Bridge?”

“Yes.” She wrapped her arms around his middle.

“Then this is the road they will be along.” Fandelmar kneed the horse again, and they resumed their search.

There were no signs for the first few hours, but around midday, Juska spotted the remains of a fire just off the road. A nearby tree bore signs that several people had been tied to it overnight. After this cursory search, they returned to riding down the road, seeking the second camp.

By the time they reached it, hours had passed, the horse was flagging, and Juska had nodded off against his back more than once. They rested out of necessity, both agreeing that they would do no good to Juska’s family by being too exhausted to help once they were found. The horse was tied out to feed on the grass of the plains while they got comfortable enough to sleep, but not comfortable enough to sleep for _too_ long.  

Fandelmar felt much more clear-headed when he awoke a couple of hours later, and their mare seemed to have regained her energy. He roused Juska and got them back in the saddle and on down the road.

They found the third fire outside of Rorikstead, which was too close to the border of Haafingar for Fandelmar’s liking. He began to goad the horse into maintaining speed, and as night fell, they kept an eye out for signs of camp. Meanwhile, Fandelmar prayed to Auri-El that whoever had Juska’s family hadn’t simply decided to push on to the Thalmor Embassy in the night.  

In the early hours of the morning, they spotted the dull orange flicker of a low fire in the distance.

“We should go on foot from here,” Fandelmar murmured. In response, Juska slipped off the horse and began creeping toward the light. He followed after at a bit of a distance, well aware that she was both quieter and more likely to recognize if any captives were her family.

As Juska neared the camp, Fandelmar ceased moving entirely. When she reached the edge of the firelight, he held his breath. She paused for a moment, head shifting as she surveyed the camp, then turned and began sneaking quickly toward him.

“My family’s there,” she hissed as she drew near. “They’re not moving. But I don’t see anybody else.”

_Not moving?_ Fandelmar reached out and gripped her arm. “Juska, this is a trap. Stay by me.”

She looked like she was about to cry. “They could be _dead!_ What if they’re–”

Suddenly, the entire area was suffused with unearthly light. Fandelmar shielded his eyes with his hand, then looked up to see the magelight in the sky. He followed the shimmering line of its casting trail toward the edge of the camp, where a tall, robed figure stood, flanked by two humans in leather armor.

“Hello again, Fandelmar,” Rumion called. “It’s good to see you.” As he spoke, one of the men beside him nocked an arrow on a bow as large as he was.

Fandelmar dragged Juska behind him by the arm, then drew his sword. Half-remembered defensive spells struggled for attention in his mind, but his racing thoughts knew that they were worthless. There was too much distance between him and Rumion for anything approaching a fair fight to be in their future. In the back of his mind, a frantic voice was insisting that they should have killed him before they fled Markarth all of those months ago.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Juska beat him to it. From behind him, her voice sounded loud enough to make his ears ring. “Give me back my family, you _son of a bitch!”_

Fandelmar heard her loose an arrow past his ear just as Rumion raised his hands and released a swirling inferno in their direction. He saw one of the men stagger as Fandelmar flung himself to the side, but Juska charged through the flames with a shriek, headed right for his former superior officer. He felt his heart drop into his stomach as she came within range of their enemies, completely ignoring the danger.

_Gods, no,_ his mind stuttered, and for the first time in his life, he felt himself lock up in fear. _Juska, what are you doing?_


	34. Juska

Juska had never fought a mage; the last time she had seen Rumion cast a spell, she’d crammed her elbow into his throat and then knocked him out. It had worked great. And, since he was currently standing between her and her family, she figured she might as well try it again. The problem she was facing this time was that he wasn’t in elbowing range. 

Fuck. Fandelmar was trying to be a shield, but that was just going to get both of them killed. As a whirlwind of fire burst to life and began spinning in their direction, Juska fired back, trying to keep the elf from ever casting another spell. She hadn’t had enough time to aim, though, so the shaft sank deep into the throat of the man at Rumion’s left, instead.

That was fine. Juska was already running, knife in hand, trying to close the distance between them and get to Rumion before he could cast again. She could see his hands moving, and power collecting within them as she drew closer, but she didn’t know what the color meant. From behind her, she heard Fandelmar scream something, but the words were distorted and hard to hear over her breath as she ran. 

Rumion pointed his hands toward her, releasing another spell, and she found herself suddenly unable to move. She started to topple forward, but he held his hand out again, and she froze in place for a second time.

Fandelmar screamed again as she heard Rumion say, “I’m not letting you get close enough to hit me this time. In fact, I think I owe _you_ a hit.”

Juska tried to struggle, and she was vaguely aware that Fandelmar’s shouting was growing louder, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the panic quickly taking her over. She’d had no idea mages could freeze people. If she had known, she wouldn’t have–

“Shoot her,” Rumion said to the man beside him. The archer shifted his aim slightly, and she had enough time to try and fail to close her eyes before the arrow flew.

Fandelmar ran past her just as the arrow burst through her middle, bringing with it a level of pain she’d never experienced before. She didn’t see stars; her vision went dim, while her center grew white hot, making tendrils of agony radiate out from where the arrow was lodged. Her mind was locked inward, focused completely on the arrow buried deep in her gut. She tried to scream, but her vocal cords were frozen by magic. She tried to reach for the arrow, but her hands were locked mid-run, one still clutching her dagger.

The sound of two people colliding registered vaguely in her mind, and through the pain, she saw a figure fall. Then, whatever magic had been holding her still ceased, and she resumed her plummet toward the ground. When she landed atop the arrow, it plunged deeper into her body before snapping beneath her weight. As her vision went dark, she heard three voices screaming, and realized that one of them was hers.

****

 

“–uska! _Juska_!” 

Two voices were shouting her name. She knew them from somewhere, but her mind was too foggy to remember them. Hands were on her, rolling her, and the pain in her stomach lessened slightly.

“Stay with me, Juska. Auri-El, please, please open your eyes.”

“Blessed Talos, don’t take my child away, it is not her time, and she can do more good in this....” The words continued, but dimly, like from far away.

Pain seared through her middle once as she felt something that didn’t belong pulling free from her body. Her throat hurt, too, but that was because she was screaming again. 

Then everything cooled. From behind her eyelids, she could see bright light blossoming, which made the pain flee before it as it permeated her skin. For a moment, her middle writhed like it was full of worms, which made her strike out at the hands pressed to her stomach. They held firm, and when the feeling passed, every bit of her was blessedly free of pain. 

A voice she knew spoke in a language she didn’t. She was very tired, but the worry in the words forced her to open her eyes.

She blinked, and her vision cleared. “...Fandelmar?” 

“ _Juska_.” His voice cracked as he gathered her up and held her close. “Thank the gods.” He hugged her only for a moment before turning his head and speaking to the other person who had been talking. “Watch her. I need to finish this.”

Strong arms took her from Fandelmar, formed of muscle hardened by years of flexing to draw mineral from stone. “Pa?”

“I’ve got you, Jus.” A rough hand ran over her forehead, smoothing her hair back. 

Juska turned her head and watched Fandelmar stride a short distance away to where a crumpled pile of robes lay on the ground. It took him plunging his sword into them for her to realize that she was looking at Rumion. Fandelmar had driven his blade through the other elf’s throat, pinning him to the ground. Then his head turned, and he looked toward the trees that held the camp.

“It is safe now, ma’am.”

It took a few seconds for her to realize who was coming out of the shadows, but when she recognized her sisters walking just behind her mother, she began to struggle in her father’s arms.

“No. I’m bloody. Don’t let them–”

But the girls burst into a run, and soon were surrounding her, chattering over one another in a familiar competition to be heard. It took their ma coming up behind them and touching each of them on the head in turn to silence them.

“Aarne. What happened?” her mother asked.

Her pa looked to their right, to where Fandelmar was standing a short distance away, watching their reunion. “He saved our girl.” 

Fandelmar took a tentative step forward, and Pa spoke again. “Come here, elf.” He looked down at Juska, then asked, “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I think so.” 

Her father carefully planted her feet on the ground, and when she didn’t sway, released her from his arms. 

She was immediately surrounded by her sisters, who hugged her tight despite the blood. Juska alternated between looking down at them, trying fruitlessly to keep them clean, and watching her father, who was eyeing Fandelmar as he drew near.

The two men stood in front of one another, and then Pa held out his hand. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, sir.” Fandelmar clasped her father’s hand in his.

The next few hours were exhausting chaos. They raided their captor’s packs for what few supplies they had, then put the girls on Gran’s horse and began the long walk home. Her little sisters were soon asleep, which left Juska to watch her parents awkwardly navigate a conversation with Fandelmar. He was, unsurprisingly, patient and polite with them, despite the fact that they kept calling him ‘elf.’

As the hours passed, Juska saw a slow truce grow between her parents and her lover. They began asking questions about his interests and what he did for a living. No mention was made of him being a Thalmor, or trash, or untrustworthy. Though she supposed watching him heal their eldest daughter was the catalyst for this, and she wasn’t too pleased that it took nearly dying to make it happen, she was happy with the result. 

But  _how_ had he healed her? Juska wanted to ask, but not in front of her family. She wanted them to think this was something he could do regularly, because it might make them more okay with him being with her. 

They had to stop and rest once they were halfway back to Riverwood. The horse was exhausted, and so was her family from days of walking under harsh conditions. While they slept, she and Fandelmar kept watch, but no elves in golden armor appeared on the road.

“What happened after I got shot?” Juska asked him eventually.

Fandelmar paused for a moment, and then began to explain. “In all honesty? Rumion miscalculated.”

He went on to explain that Rumion had been so focused on her that he’d forgotten he’d been keeping her family paralyzed, as well. The spell had faded as his attention had. Juska’s father had bolted for Rumion the second he could move, and knocked him out with one hit. Fandelmar had arrived seconds later, and stabbed the archer that had shot her.

“If Rumion hadn’t slipped up, Juska, I….” his voice cracked again.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Hush. It worked out. I just wish I knew how they had found my family.”

Fandelmar reached for his pack and removed several folded letters. “Rumion had these on him. They’re from Thorgold. From what I can tell, he plied Sven with mead until he would talk freely about his family.”

Juska sighed. “I’m too tired to be angry at that man.”

He nodded. “Needless to say, we need to show these letters to the steward. Ulfric would be displeased to learn that one of his hold’s guards was conspiring with the Thalmor.”

“Maybe they’ll torture _him_ in prison this time.”

“One can only hope.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Juska asked her next question. “How did you heal me? I thought you couldn’t. You said you couldn’t, anyway, when we first met.”

He looked down at her, face once again wearing that expression that she couldn’t quite read. “Will you let me explain that later? Now… is not the time.”

She felt her brow furrow and forced it to relax as she nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her temple, then added, “Why don’t you rest? I can watch your family.”

Juska was about to agree when something clicked in her mind. “...Fandelmar, where’s your sword?”

His face went stony, and for the first time in months, he looked like the elf who had helped hold her captive for three days. “In Rumion’s throat. I want any other Thalmor who might find him to have a clear message about what will happen if they come after us again.”

“I’m staying up, then. We need someone with weapons watching.”

“You should teach me to shoot.” His face softened, and she felt tension she hadn’t realized she was holding in her back fade away. 

She smiled at him. “You should teach me Aldmeris.”

He blinked. “I should?”

“Yeah. I want to learn it.”

“I certainly can, though I am not sure it will be useful in Windhelm.”

Juska shoulder-bumped him. “It will help me understand _you_.”

“Ah.” He gave her a small smile. “Very well.”

Watch was blessedly uneventful, and the few hours of sleep it gave Juska’s family proved to be enough to let them finish their trek back to Riverwood. There, each of them was inspected by a frantic Gran, who was then eventually convinced by Pa to allow Fandelmar inside the house. Once inside, everyone cleaned up, ate, and then settled in to get more sleep. So many people were a tight fit for the house, but they made it work. Juska took a blanket on the floor, and soon found herself ringed by her little sisters. Fandelmar slept away from her, near the fireplace, while Pa and Ma shared one bed, and Gran took the other. 

Sleeping around her family felt familiar, and the dreams she had were soft and free of worry. But when she woke, she found herself full of dread from the conversation she needed to have with them all. Over breakfast, she waited for a lull in the conversation, and then began.

“Fandelmar and I need to go back today. If you see anyone suspicious, you _write_ me.” She stared Gran, then Pa, and then Ma down. “You understand? I nearly lost you all, and I’m not letting that happen again.”

The girls all stared at their plates, but Emilie still broke the silence that her parents wouldn’t. “Jus, can I write you? Even if everything is okay?”

She smiled. “Yes. I’d love letters from you all. I missed you so much while I was gone.” 

The girls grew happy at this, and neither of her parents protested, so Juska allowed herself to hope that she had won back the right to speak with her sisters.

Her mother met her eyes, and then sighed through her nose. “So you… you _two_ … are headed back to Windhelm?”

“Yeah. I have a job there. So does he. We can’t be gone long.”

There was a silence so long that it made her feel terrible for Fandelmar. She stole a glance his way, but he seemed unruffled. 

Eventually, her father broke the silence. “Travel safe. We’ll stock your packs. Mother, can they borrow the horse? Sven will need her to get back.”

Gran was still refusing to even look at Fandelmar, but nodded all the same.

After tearful goodbyes from her little sisters, who promised again to write, and slightly strained goodbyes from her adult family, Juska and Fandelmar mounted up and began the ride back to Windhelm. She was going to miss them all, but a little distance seemed like the best idea for now.

“It feels like I’m going home,” Juska mused once they had been on the road for an hour or so. “When did Windhelm become home?”

Fandelmar made a thoughtful noise. “I am not sure, but I admit to feeling the same.”

She watched the trees give way to plains before them and just enjoyed being in his company for a while. When the mountains of Eastmarch came into view, Fandelmar reined in the horse and turned his head to look at her. 

“Could we talk?”

“O-of course.” Juska chewed on her lip and looked around. “Let’s get off the road?” She pointed toward a large exposed bit of rock jutting out of the ground. “Behind there.”

“Alright.” Fandelmar dismounted and began leading the horse toward the boulder. When they arrived, Juska put her feet to ground and waited for Fandelmar to get comfortable. Once she realized that was unlikely to happen, she just leaned her back against the rock and watched him. 

He looked over at her, face once again wearing that expression that she didn’t understand.

“Sit?” she asked, patting the space next to her.

Fandelmar sat down in front of her instead, putting them knee to knee. “I realized something when I healed you, and now might be the best time to explain myself.”

“Okay.”

He took a deep breath and rested his hands on his knees. “My mother was a healer. I never had a knack for it, though she tried her best. One day… one day I gave myself a splinter loading a cart, and when I tried to heal it, she said something that I’ve never forgotten.”

Juska paused chewing on her lip to ask, ”What did she say?”

Fandelmar took another deep breath. “She said that the magic works best if you love the person you’re healing.”

“I….”

His green eyes changed focus from the ground to her face. “I have suspected for some time that I am in love with you, Juska. And now I am certain. So I am letting you know.”

“Oh, sweet gods, Fandelmar.” She ran her hands into the hair at the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “I’ve been too afraid to say it to you. But I’ve loved you for a while.”

He broke into a wide smile and pulled her close for a hug. “Then we will continue to manage.”

This earned him a laugh and another kiss. Juska was about to give him one more when she was suddenly struck by what he had said. She pulled away and looked at his face.

“But if you can heal me, and not you....”

Fandelmar looked down at his hands. “I find it… difficult to love myself.”

“Then we need to work on that. Maybe if I tell you about all the good in you, you’ll believe it.”

“Perhaps. It wouldn’t hurt, though it might inflate my ego.” He gave a small smile, and she smacked lightly at his shoulder.

She wanted to snuggle in close against him, but he was in full armor, and they were in the middle of the wilderness. So she decided they should do the next best thing and get back to their little apartment as quickly as possible.

“Come on,” she said, rising and holding out a hand. “Let’s go home, love.”

The way he smiled down at her as he stood made her feel light inside.


	35. Fandelmar

Juska's brush with death had forced Fandelmar to finally address the emotions that he had allowed to maintain ambiguous control over him for months. The days of high stress spent locating and retrieving Juska’s family had pushed them to the back of his mind, but only temporarily. After the fight with Rumion, his feelings about Juska returned to the forefront. When they lay in bed together at night upon their return home, after Juska had fallen asleep, he would often find himself staring up at the ceiling and thinking about how much worse their encounter with his fellow Thalmor could have gone. It was difficult not to clutch her in the dark and think of what it would like to be alone.

That thought had been a problem for far longer than their most recent trip through the Reach, however. His worry about being alone had kept him from responding to Juska’s advances initially, and it had kept him from admitting how he felt about her afterward. A small voice in the back of his head had worried that it wasn’t her he wanted at all, but that she was instead simply better than _nothing_. His family was dead. Without her, he would have nobody.

But that was not a reason to be with someone. If that had been his motivation, well… Juska would have deserved better.

Fandelmar was upset with himself that it had taken watching the life begin to fade from her eyes for him to finally trust that he wanted her for _her_. His panic and despair in that moment had been so great that even thinking of the memory afterward could overwhelm him, especially when he was the only one awake in the darkness of their room. Her blood had covered them both quickly, the sight of which left him able to do little more than beg her to open her eyes.

It was his hands that had saved them. They moved to her stomach with a mind of their own and before he knew it, his magicka was obeying his demands for it to heal rather than harm. It had been decades since he had managed even the most minor healing spell. Yet Juska’s wound had knit closed, and he’d heard his mother’s voice in his head as he stared down in shock at what he had done.

_The magic works better when you love the person you’re healing._

It shouldn’t have taken something that terrible to convince Fandelmar that he wanted Juska for the right reasons. But, as he had explained to her on their trip back to Windhelm, he found it difficult to love himself. It was far easier to expect the worst of someone not held in high regard. This was just another example of his innate mistrust of himself. 

“But you _did_ realize it,” he whispered to himself more than once in the darkness. Not only that, but he had admitted it to her as quickly as he could, because she deserved to know. Partly because she deserved to be loved, and also partly because if she hadn’t loved him in return, she deserved to know so that she could decide what to do.

Auri-El bless her for deciding that he was good enough to love back.

At night, she would sleep with her head on his chest, and he would stare at the ceiling while running his hand over her hair, smoothing it back and causing it to fall across their bedding. Her sleep since their return had been deep, and easy, and he was glad for that, because it helped keep her from the darkness he still felt lingering in his core. It had formed when he learned of his grandfather’s passing, and had deepened when Juska’s blood brought with it that paralyzing fear of being alone. 

Sometimes he would slip a hand under her shirt and run a thumb against the scar of her arrow wound. After he has seen it, Fandelmar had apologized for not killing Rumion along with Lascelmo back when they first fled Markarth. Juska had just shaken her head and smiled at him. 

“It’s just a scar. I have plenty of those already, love.” 

And anyway, she added, someone worse than Rumion might have been sent after them. He had taken a few moments to remember his former compatriots, and was forced to admit that the chances of that would have been high. And so he did his best to accept her scar as better than many possible alternatives.

Lascelmo’s voice echoed through his head occasionally. Finally giving Rumion what he deserved seemed to have made Lascelmo’s ghost restless, and he was doing his best to whisper doubts to Fandelmar in the dead of night. It was the callous way he had spoken of his dead Breton wife that kept coming to mind.

_They just age too fast._

It was terrifying to think that in fifty years, Juska might be old and frail, while he would merely be going grey at the temples. A part of him that was scared and tired was trying to convince the rest of him that he was setting himself up for more pain.

It was thoughts of Arianwe that quelled that particular voice, however. In a perfect world, he and his wife would have had hundreds of years together, but chance had taken her away from him. Despite how much her loss had hurt then, and even with how much it did still, he knew that he wouldn’t have done a single thing differently had he known what would happen. Life with Arianwe had been more than worth the pain of her loss. It followed that life with Juska would be, as well.

And, he knew, it was always possible that she would outlive _him_ and make the entire point irrelevant. The world was a strange place, and if they survived the daedra and the dragons, there were still other evils waiting for a chance to try them.

It took a few nights to work through all of this in his mind, but once he finally had, he found himself holding Juska against his side, and thanking his wife for showing him sense. Arianwe would have wanted him to be happy, but he had spent decades too guilty to try. Now he had a real chance at it, and he owed it to both himself _and_ Juska to do his best.

Once he came to that conclusion, sleep became easier. He still missed his grandfather, but he decided that Juska’s faith that Fandil not only was with their family, now, but didn’t feel abandoned, was something that he should trust. Days slowly became brighter, partially because he was healing, and partially because Skyrim was experiencing its short summer season. He found himself out in the wilderness with Juska often as she gathered supplies for Ruvene, and for the first time was able to see the beauty of the country he had once felt trapped in.

Fandelmar could make a life here, he realized. Especially if he were with Juska, who loved her homeland to her core. He began to make a point of asking her what she appreciated about Skyrim, and when she answered, it helped him to see the country through her eyes.

It also helped that Ulfric’s men pushed the Empire out of Skyrim in the weeks following their return to Windhelm. With them gone, the Thalmor were forced to retreat, as well. It didn’t take long before the city was full of gossip that the Thalmor Embassy had been sacked and burned.

Fandelmar had a few problems with some of the more inebriated humans in the days following that announcement, but overall the city seemed to have become used to him. Niranye had remained despite her worries, and though the alchemist Nurelion grew more ill by the day, he too was tolerated by the rest of the citizenry. Soon, Fandelmar was sure that he would be just another High Elf that was deemed harmless. All he had to do was wait patiently.

Within a week of the news that Solitude had been freed of the Empire, Fandelmar came back to their apartment from running errands to find Juska frowning down at a letter from her perch atop their kitchen table.

“Is something the matter?” He sat down an armful of root vegetables and moved to stand beside her.

“Pa wrote me.” She frowned down at the letter. “The family is heading back to Markarth. Apparently he’s going to retire from the mine and be a priest of Talos full-time.”

“That is amazing news, but you’re frowning.”

Her frown deepened. “They’re trying to get me to agree to go back with them.”

“Ah.” 

She leaned against his shoulder and sighed. “Like I would. They really want to pretend that the life we’re building out here is some temporary thing, but it’s not.”

Fandelmar pulled her to his side and kissed her temple. “Do you want to go back? I can do what I do anywhere within Skyrim, Juska.”

Juska was quiet for a while, but she eventually shook her head. “In all honesty? I miss my sisters, and Sven, but it’s nice to be away from my parents. They’re….”

He risked speaking the word that came to mind. “Overbearing?”

“Yeah. They always have been. Out here, they can still disapprove of what I’m doing, obviously, but I still get to be me while they do it.” 

“Then I say we stay here. But just to be clear, I am not against visiting them.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “They were a little terrible to you, love.”

Fandelmar shrugged. “Your brother is learning, and your little sisters are sweet. So long as your grandmother isn’t at the table with us, I will be fine.”

Juska started cackling. “Oh, I love Gran, but she’s an old witch. Gods. I can’t believe she ignored you the entire time we were in her house.”

He chuckled. “It was better than being threatened with a knife.”

This made Juska bury her face in her hands. “Talos’ tits, how did I end up with such a mess of a family?”

“I believe that is just how family is. My family had its own foibles. You simply came along late enough to be spared them.”

She planted a kiss on his shoulder. “I would have liked to meet your mother, at least. As sweet as you are, it says good things about her.”

Fandelmar smiled and ran a hand over her hair. Now that Sven was gone home, the braids were missing, as well, and as a result it was loose and soft beneath his fingers. “She was a gentle woman. You would have gotten along with her.”

Juska laughed. “I am not a ‘gentle woman,’ Fandelmar.”

“You are for me.”

This earned him a gap-toothed smile for a few moments, but thoughtfulness eventually overtook her face once more. “Hey, do you still have those letters you found on Rumion?”

He nodded at her. “The ones from Thorgold? I do.”

“Give them to me. I need to go speak to the steward tomorrow.”

Fandelmar felt his chest go tight, as it always did when they discussed the guard, but did his best to hide it as he rose and moved for his pack. After rummaging around in the smaller outer pocket, he retrieved the letters and offered them out to her.

“Thank you. This means he’ll be gone soon.”

“One can only hope.”

He realized the next morning that he shouldn’t have doubted the power of her resolve. By the time he had risen from bed, she was freshly scrubbed and wearing her best blue dress. Her hair was also braided and beaded once more, which made him smile.

“You look very Nord today.”

She smiled at him in the mirror. “Exactly.” He watched her bite her lips to redden them, and then she turned to face him directly. “I have no idea how long I’ll be at the palace today talking to that idiot. Do you have dock work tonight?”

He shook his head. “I plan to do a bit of bookkeeping, see if we can afford a bathtub yet.”

“Good luck to us both, then.” Juska stepped in for a kiss, and Fandelmar pulled her close and nearly undid all her good work at the mirror. “Gods. Hold on to that for tonight.”

He kissed her forehead, and then let her move away. He didn’t speak again until she was at the door to their apartment. “Juska?” 

“Yeah?” She looked over her shoulder at him. 

“...Thank you.”

Her face turned serious. “Nobody hurts you and gets away with it.” 

He nodded. “Likewise, Juska.”

When she left, he pulled out a ledger they had begun keeping to track household purchases and began budgeting out their next few months. Juska’s salary from the alchemy shop was steady, and his work with the Shatter-Shields was also falling into a reliable rhythm as he continued to show up on time and not drunk. They had even allowed him to begin working during the daytime. It was a shame it was so simple to outclass his peers, but a few calculations showed that within the next two months, they would be able to afford their bathtub. It wouldn’t be copper, as his one back on Auridon had been. But, given the conversation he’d recently had with a Dunmer woodworker in the quarter, he knew that it would be sturdy, serviceable, and even pleasing to the eye if he were willing to pay a bit extra.

Part of him wanted to leave and place their order now, but he knew better than to promise money they didn’t yet have. Two months was hardly any time at all. He would simply need to be patient. Now that life seemed to be settling back into a consistent pattern, he was finding that the skill had returned to him.

Fandelmar was reading in the bedroom, enjoying the relative strength of the afternoon light coming in through the windows, when Juska returned. He first noted the high color in her cheeks, but the fact that she was smiling made them fetching rather than worrisome. 

“He’s in the dungeon,” she breathed, falling over beside him on the bed. “I watched them lock him in.”

He closed his book with a snap and gathered her up in his arms, too overwhelmed by his emotions to manage anything resembling speech. When he pressed his face to her shoulder and hugged her tightly, she ran a hand over his hair.

“We don’t have to worry about him anymore, love.”

“ _Gods_.” His voice was shaky, but she was kind enough to ignore it. When she began to guide him backward onto their bed, he went willingly.

“I think we’ve managed everything that’s come our way now, right?” she murmured. “No more Thalmor, no more Thorgold. No more injuries, and no more struggling to keep a roof over our heads. Let’s just _rest_ for a little while.” 

He pulled his face away from her shoulder so that she could see his smile. “I never would have suspected that we’d make such a good team.”

She settled her palm against his cheek, letting her thumb run over the scar there. “It was a nice surprise.”

Fandelmar slipped a hand to the small of her back, pressed his forehead to hers, and closed his eyes. Her thumb continued gently stroking his cheek, which lulled him quickly into a sense of relaxation and calm that was stronger than anything he’d felt in a long while.

“I love you, Juska,” he murmured.

“I love you, too. Now sleep with me. Arguing with the steward has me exhausted.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is AO.

Juska had never had someone in love with her before. That she knew of, anyway. None of her relationships prior to Fandelmar had been important enough to reach that point. She wanted to ask him when he had realized that he loved her, but she wasn’t sure if that was something she was _supposed_ to ask. Was it rude? Was it vain? And how would she feel if he couldn’t remember?

But if he ever asked her, she knew her answer. The moment had happened just before Sven had arrived in town, and had been a large part of the reason that she had so desperately wanted the two of them to get along. It had been a small, simple thing. She’d walked into their little room at Neloth’s, and Fandelmar had looked up at her, smiled, and said her name. She had realized as she smiled back at him then that she wanted to hear him say her name every day for the rest of her life. It wasn’t the most interesting way to realize it, maybe, but it suited them. Everything else for them had come on gradually, so why not love? 

Even if she _didn’t_ want to be particularly gradual about any of the rest of their life together. In fact, she wanted to speed some of it up a little. They loved each other, after all, so there wasn’t really any point to waiting around anymore, right?

Juska wanted to ask Fandelmar to marry her. He’d been married before, as she was well aware, but she suspected that Arianwe hadn’t been the one to ask. So it would feel different to him if she popped the question this time around. That… and she was impatient. It had taken ages for him to kiss her, what _felt_ like ages before they slept together, and then more time than it probably should have for them to admit that they loved each other. At this rate, she’d be grey by the time they got around to showing up at a temple together.

But it was a big decision, and like all big decisions, she wanted guidance. She knew better than to write her parents, or even her brother, but she could still sit down and have a chat with Talos. So three days after watching Thorgold get locked in a cell in the palace dungeon, that’s what she did. When lunch time came around at the shop, she made the walk to the temple and settled in on a bench to pray.

She was nervy by the time she made it, so it took a bit longer than usual to get into the frame of mind that made conversations with Talos easy. But after a few minutes of deep breathing, she felt his attention turn to her.

Juska didn’t sugar-coat it: _I want to marry Fandelmar._

Part of her expected that the faint warmth that came with Talos’ attention would fade when she said this, but it didn’t. That gave her the courage to carry on. 

_I want to ask him to marry me, specifically. Would he say yes?_

An image filled her mind of Fandelmar, smiling at her, in that way he had that was mostly in the eyes.

_Would you be angry if we got married here?_

The answer for this was more ambiguous: in her head, she saw three people dressed in Talos robes. The temple priests.

_Okay. I’ll ask them._

She recited one of the prayers Pa had taught her, and once she had finished, she felt the presence of her god fade away. 

It was difficult focusing on her work day after hearing that news. Thankfully, Ruvene was patient with her when she needed instructions repeated. Her boss was well aware that things had been rocky for Juska up until recently, and so probably just assumed that something had gone wrong again. It worked out fine; they were able to muddle through together, and soon enough Juska found herself walking toward home.

That was when she realized that she didn’t have a plan for how she was going to ask him. Was she supposed to? In the stories she had read when she was younger, where the man proposed, they always did it in a romantic spot, or during a festival. The thought made Juska shake her head as she weaved through the other townsfolk heading home, though. Neither option seemed right.

When the main door to the bakery came within reach, Juska had to pause and breathe, because it felt like her stomach was rolling. She stopped so suddenly that a passer-by slammed into her back before muttering under his breath and walking away.

“Gods,” she whispered. “You know how this is going to end. It’s fine.”

The bakery was closing as she came in, so she said a quick good night to their landlords before trudging up the steps to their apartment. As she opened the door, she realized that she hadn’t made any dinner plans because she had been so distracted.

“I’m back!” she called as she stepped in, and immediately felt her cheeks go pink as she heard her voice quaver.

Fandelmar looked up from where he was caring for his new sword. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked her over. “Is everything alright, Juska?”

“Oh. Yeah, just.” She licked her lips and looked around the room. “I realized on the walk home that I had no idea what to make for dinner.”

He set his sword aside and looked at her a bit more closely. “We can go eat at Neloth’s, if you’d like a break.”

“No! No. We need to be saving money. What about the budget you made?”

Now his brows really _were_ furrowed. It was an impressive face when paired with his elven bone structure. “We can spare a few coins.”

Juska looked around the room, trying to find something to focus on that wasn’t her nerves. “I’d rather stay in. I can bang something together.”

Fandelmar rose and walked to stand in front of her. When he reached for her shoulders and looked down at her, she felt like her entire body flushed in response. The room seemed incredibly warm. Gods, why was her skin so _pink?_

“Juska,” he said, face sliding into a frown. “Are you okay?”

She looked up into his pretty green eyes. “Marry me,” she replied.

Fandelmar stood still for a moment, hands still on her shoulders, before suddenly pulling her close against him, laughing hard. She only started giggling when he began planting kisses on the top of her head.

Her face was now pressed against his chest, but she managed to say it again. “Marry me.”

One of Fandelmar’s hands eased into the hair behind her ear, tilting her face toward his. “Yes,” he said, and then ducked his head for a kiss.

Juska threw her arms around his neck and made the kiss count. Several moments later, they both pulled away for a breath.

“You said yes!” She beamed at him.

“I did,” he agreed. “Though I am not entirely sure I believe my luck.”

He was being serious, which made her chest feel tight. “I said we’d work on that lack of self-love. I can help fix it, maybe.”

“Mm. How?”

“I could show you all the things I love about you.” She tilted his head down slightly and nibbled on the tip of his exposed ear, causing him to exhale sharply.

“I… might be amenable to that.” 

His smile was slight, but it was there. Juska smiled back before pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love your lips,” she said.

Fandelmar chuckled. “You do?”

She nodded. “They’re so expressive. And they say such wonderful things.” This time she kissed him full on the mouth, making a point of lingering until she heard his breathing deepen. “And when they’re against mine, I feel them all the way to here.” She took his hand and pressed its fingers to her lower belly.  

“Gods, Juska,” he breathed, and pulled her in for another kiss. The hand at her stomach slowly petted at her, thumb stroking gently, as the other slipped against her hip to hold her close. 

She let her hands move upward and into his hair and brushed at it gently as she broke the kiss to look him in the eyes. “I love your hair,” she told him. “I love that it’s lighter than mine, and how it feels against my skin when we’re in bed together at night.” 

Again, a faint smile appeared. “I feel the same about yours.”

“Then you know how wonderful it is. Good.” 

Juska began to remove his shirt, and he held his arms up obligingly. Once it was free of them, she tossed it in the general direction of a dining chair, then took his hand and led him for the bedroom. They passed the threshold before she stopped leading him and rose slightly onto her toes, bringing his shoulder scar into easy access.

“I love this scar.” A pause for her to run her fingers, then her tongue, along the marred skin. “I love it because it reminds me of how long you’ve been defending me. Right since the moment we met, Fandelmar, you’ve kept me safe.”

One of his hands rubbed at her back. “Gods, Juska,” he said again. 

She sank down to her knees next so that she could plant a kiss on his first scar, the one at his side. The color was finally beginning to fade from its original glossy pink to a softer white. It still stood out from the rest of his skin, but with less anger. Juska ran her thumb along it next, then looked up to find Fandelmar watching her.

“I love this scar, too,” she admitted. “It let us get to know each other. And now it tells me when you’re worried, because you run your fingers against it when you are.” 

She raked her nail lightly along it, and his hips twitched toward her. Fandelmar took a deep breath and tried to step back a bit, but she had him by the trousers. She knew that he was trying to keep the bulge developing in them from being right in her face, but since she wanted it there, she didn’t let him move. He stopped trying when her fingers found his laces and began undoing them. Once they were loose, she slipped them down his waist and let them fall around his ankles.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Sit on the bed for me?”

He nodded. “A-alright.” 

As he settled onto the edge of the bed, she took a moment to admire the nearly pristine whiteness of his underclothes. She had no idea how he kept them looking so clean and new, but when he’d offered to be the one in charge of their laundry, she’d quickly agreed. 

“Those, too,” She pointed for emphasis.

Fandelmar slipped his underclothes off and set them aside on the night stand. 

Juska laughed as she fell to her knees in front of him. “I love how tidy you are, even when you don’t need to be. It’s important to you, and I appreciate that.”

“I hate to admit this, but you love a flaw.”

“Sure I do. Everyone has them. But when you love someone, you love all of them.” 

He licked his lips as he looked down at her. “ _Gods_ , Juska.”

Juska finally gave in to the urge to take him into her hand. He rarely let her give him attention, but tonight he was owed a little. She slipped her thumb over his head, gently caressing it, and smiled as he poorly stifled a groan. She repeated the action with her tongue, and spent a few moments doing her best to make him louder. Gods, he felt so good against her tongue: warm, and hard, because he wanted her. Having him in hand always made her anticipate what would come next. When he took her, she knew, she was going to enjoy every second. He always made sure that she did. 

She pulled back to speak, but kept her fingers running firmly along him as she did. “I love doing this with you. You’re always so worried about whether or not I’m enjoying myself, but what I enjoy the most is making you feel good.”

His fingers threaded carefully into her hair, gently petting it back over her shoulder. She loved the feeling of his fingers in her hair, so showed her approval by taking him as far into her mouth as she could while her hand stroked along his base. This made Fandelmar mutter something in Aldmeris, and she hummed smugly in response. She might not understand the words, but that didn’t make them any less of a goal.

After a few more minutes of broken phrases brought about by her tongue, he managed words she _did_ understand. “Juska. Get up here.” He emphasized his point by taking her free hand and lightly tugging her toward the bed.

As she rose, she felt his hands loosening the belt of her dress. That done, he had it off and set aside in seconds. She laughed and fell beside him on the bed, then laughed harder as he made short work of her underthings.

“In a hurry?”

He took her by the hips and settled her more fully on the bed. Her laughter ended in a gasp as he began kissing his way down her middle. 

“Gods,” she gasped, digging her nails into his shoulder as he pressed his lips to her newest scar. “You are.”

“Only to get here.” He settled in between her knees and gave her a slow lick that she felt right down to her core.

“ _Fuck!”_ Her hips arched hard toward his face, which he, wonderful man that he was, took as a sign to double his efforts. She tried to keep her hips from bucking, but his tongue was making her see white light in her eyes, and feel it all through her limbs. 

“I love your tongue,” she managed, but there weren’t enough words left in her for elaboration.

“I can tell.”

His hands moved to her hips, holding her against the bed as his thumb pressed into the divot of her right hip, sending a thrill up her spine that had her calling his name so loudly that she startled herself. 

“Need you,” she groaned, reaching down to tug at his hair.

He tilted his head to pull free of her grasp. “Not yet,” he murmured against her. He looked up at her, and two of his fingers slipped inside her to accompany his tongue.

Time stopped after that. Juska was nothing but sensation, and he was the source, cleverly guiding her closer towards climax. She wanted that, very badly, but she wanted it to happen with him inside of her and her lips against his.

“Please,” she begged.

They made eye contact, and he must have seen something in her face that made him understand, because he began kissing his way back up toward her face, fingers working against her all the while. When he kissed her, she groaned hard and pressed one of her calves against his ass to push him closer against her. He took her meaning and slowly freed his hand, then brought his hips to hers, pressing into her firmly.

Juska felt her eyes roll back into her head as her clamoring nerves returned instantly to the intensity he’d had her at moments ago. She bore down hard and cried out in relief at how full he’d made her feel. Her hips moved unthinkingly, and she had to wrap her arms around his shoulders to support herself as thrill after thrill surged through her. Fandelmar buried his hands in her hair and pulled her face close, kissing her deeply. 

“Come for me, Juska.” When the words made her groan, he slipped his tongue to hers and pressed a hand to her lower back, arching her against him.

One, two, three rolls of her hips was all it took to send Juska over the edge. She was breathing so hard that she almost sobbed as every nerve in her body came alight. The sensory overload crowded her brain, and she sank into the bedding and took a moment to just feel.

When she came back to herself, she found Fandelmar smiling down at her. “Perfect,” he said.

She nodded and took a moment to breathe. He pulled away to make that easier, and settled back into a sitting position. “Come here, Juska.”

“Fucking _gods,"_ she whispered as she struggled to get her limbs to obey. He reached out to steady her, and soon she was straddling his lap.

Fandelmar took her legs and encouraged them to cross at the ankles behind him, then gently grasped her hips. She pressed toward him eagerly, and reveled in his voice as he said more words she didn’t know in response. 

It didn’t take long for her to realize that he was giving her complete control of their pace, which was rare. She took advantage of this and their position, which allowed her to watch his face as her hips worked. It wasn’t long before he was resting back on his hands, eyes lidded heavily, and moaning gently every time she surrounded him completely. She felt the same as he looked; it wasn’t going to be long until she came again. This time, though, she wanted him to go over the edge with her.

Fandelmar moved to put his thumb to her, as usual, but she caught his wrist in her hand and shook her head. “Come with me,” she gasped, rolling her hips with force.

_“Gods,_ Juska.” 

She felt him press up to meet her, and groaned.  Her eyes wanted to close, but just as they were about to, she realized he was staring at her face. She locked eyes with him, and they watched each other as their hips matched paces and worked toward release. Juska flung her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead to his, holding him close as her world went white again. In the back of her mind, she heard him shout her name as he dipped her onto her back, pushing deep within her and holding them together.

The room came back to Juska in stages, which she regretted a little. Those few seconds when she could see and feel only Fandelmar were always phenomenal. Her fingers found his hair as her nerves came down, and she spent a moment enjoying the quiet along with his closeness. He nuzzled at her neck and became heavy, but the feeling was soothing rather than restrictive.

After a few minutes, she broke the silence. “I still need to make us dinner.”

He kissed her neck. “In a minute.”

“Okay.” 

Juska ran her hands down his back, enjoying his muscles, and spent some time just being with the man who had agreed to be her husband. They had earned this, and she was determined to enjoy every possible moment of their life together.


	37. Fandelmar

Fandelmar watched with growing concern over the next few days as Juska began to navigate wedding logistics. First came a letter to her parents and siblings, giving the good news. Then, their response. Juska’s face as she read indicated her family thought it wasn't the best news they had ever gotten. Apparently saving their daughter only ingratiated himself to a point, which had officially been passed.

Instead of replying out of anger, Juska went to the Temple of Talos. Fandelmar expected her to come back more content, since temple visits often calmed her, but when she returned to the apartment her face was flushed in anger.

“The priests refused to perform a service for us. If they think I am ever donating to them again, they’re wrong!” 

She was clenching her teeth, so he rose from caring for his armor to run his hand along her jaw. “I am honestly unsurprised.”

“Talos said it would be okay!” She paused. “At least, I think he did. Maybe he was saying that the decision was up to the priests. But the question didn’t make him angry, so I thought….”

“Would your father do the service? He is Markarth’s priest now, correct?”

Juska looked down at the floor. “Honestly? I don’t know. He didn’t offer, and I don’t want to ask.”

Fandelmar pressed his lips to her forehead. “Would you be averse to being married by a Maran?”

“...Mara might be the only Aedra with priests in this country who would do the service right now, honestly.”

Fandelmar nodded. “We could take some days off, travel to Riften. Niranye mentioned that the city would likely be kinder to us than Windhelm has been.”

“It stinks, but it’s probably a good idea.”

“Then why does it stink?”

Juska giggled. “No, the city. Riften stinks.”

“Ah. No outdoor ceremony for us, then.” Which was just as well, because his first wedding ceremony had been outdoors, on the beach. Fandelmar wanted this experience to be different.

“I’ll write to the priests there,” she said. “And then pray that they say yes.”

“They will. We have enough love to make the Marans happy.” Fandelmar smiled, and received a grin in response.

“That’s the truth.” She rose onto her toes to give him a kiss, then moved toward her writing utensils where they were set out on their table. “I’ll get the letter out today. Once I know what they say, I’ll reply to my parents.”

Juska was nervy as she waited for a response from Riften, so Fandelmar did his best to distract her with aspects of the ceremony that _were_ in their control. Over dinner one night, he asked if she wished to dress him, and her eyes lit up.

“You’ll let me do that?” She grinned. “If you’re not careful, we’ll match.”  

Fandelmar shrugged. “Would it make you happy if we did?”

Juska chuckled. “Sweet man, I’m not going to do that to us. I don’t look nearly as good in green as you do, and grey would clash with your skin.”

She had clearly put some thought into this. “Will I be wearing green?”

“Yes. Your nice green shirt, which you have. With soft brown leather boots and pants, maybe? Which you don’t.”

He glanced over at the ledger where it sat in their low bookshelf. Clothes would put the bathtub back a bit, but it would make her happy. “I can do that.”

“And we’re going to a tailor. _Not_ Niranye’s stall.”

Fandelmar nodded his assent. “And for you?”

“Blue seems like such a political color now, but I like it.”

“You also happen to look good in it. You could wear a deep blue. It would draw out your eyes.”

“That would be _expensive_.” Juska buried her face in her hands.

“Less so if you ask for linen or cotton. I see no need for either of us to be married in silk, do you?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever even touched silk,” she muttered. 

“As someone who once dealt with it quite frequently, you are not missing much. It is fussy, and difficult to clean.”

“Noted.” She lifted her head and looked over at him. “So, we’ll find a tailor when you’re not working next. Ruvene will let me slip away for this.”

This led them into a discussion of who to invite. Fandelmar suggested Ruvene, since she had been so kind to them, and Juska suggested Neloth for the same reason. When Fandelmar suggested Sven, she looked surprised, but agreed to write him regardless.

The response from Riften was the first to arrive. It was from a man named Maramal, who said that he would happily perform the service. _It’s a wonderful thing, to see that love can mend what war has broken_ , he wrote, which Fandelmar was rather annoyed by. They weren’t attempting to make a statement by being together. Still, with the tailor working on their clothes having given them a timeline for their completion, they were able to write back with the day they wanted the service held.

Sven’s letter came next. He agreed to come, but said that Juska’s parents were remaining behind to ‘see to the girls.’ They, he explained, had been deemed too young to make such a long trip, especially while they were just settling in back in Markarth. 

“I didn’t ask _them_ to come,” Juska muttered to the letter. After a moment, she muttered again, but this time to him. “Ma could have managed it, at least.”

“I’m sorry, Juska.”

She sighed. “No. At least they’re speaking to me, now. It’s like you always say, right? I just need to be patient.”

He felt himself smile. “Yes.”

Patience wasn’t her strongest suit, he knew, but she managed well over the next few days of planning. Their clothes were finished a day late, which she was gracious about. Ruvene and Neloth agreed to come, even though they were having to ask relatives to cover their businesses. And Sven had already left Markarth, since he had the farthest to travel. 

They decided to travel down to Riften the night before the wedding and stay at the inn there, so that they wouldn’t be exhausted for the ceremony. Juska was antsy as they settled into the cart to begin the journey, but when Fandelmar quietly handed her his book, she nestled against his side and read the entire way. He contented himself with the scenery, especially through the plains. He had never seen a volcanic tundra, and it gave him something to focus on as he went over his portion of their vows in his head. Since neither of them were proper Marans, they had asked to be allowed to write their own, and Maramal had agreed. 

Fandelmar was relatively certain that his vows were the hardest thing he had ever written.

As they approached the city, he noticed a stagnant smell in the air, and realized that this must be the reason Juska said the city stank. When they entered the gates, the source was easily recognizable: there was an old, disused canal bisecting the city. The inn was close to it, which worried him, but the interior proved to be nice. It was also run by Argonians, which he quietly pointed out to Juska. This city definitely seemed to be more integrated than Windhelm.

When they came down for dinner, they learned that the food was good, which was a relief after such a long day on the road. Sven walked in when they were halfway through their meal, covered in road dust. He promptly hugged them both, then ordered celebratory drinks for the table. With a wink at Fandelmar, he asked for two meads and a glass of wine. 

He expected that it would be difficult to sleep. In fact, he remembered having some difficulty before his first wedding. But, Juska settled in against him after they put out the candles and was soon asleep herself. The sensation of her so utterly relaxed against his side caused him to feel an echo of it, and he went to sleep after only a short struggle.

They woke late the next morning, because they weren't due to be at the temple until the afternoon. Fandelmar slipped down into the main room, said good morning to Sven, and brought Juska breakfast in bed. The smile she gave him when he handed her plate over was ridiculously adorable.

“If I get this response every time, I may make this a routine,” he said.

“You should. I’ve still never had your cooking.”

He smiled. “I will keep that in mind.”

Eventually, the time came to get ready for the ceremony. Juska had carefully set their clothes out the night before to give them a chance to air and keep them from wrinkling. Fandelmar combed through his hair, washed his face, and watched Juska in the mirror as she ran her fingers along the sleeve of her dress.

“I still can’t believe you talked me into this dress.”

“You look amazing in it.”

She slipped it over her head, which only served to prove his point. It was a deep, sapphire blue, with loose sleeves and a cinched waist. The color did wonders for her coloration, and the cut did the same for her figure. He dried his hands and walked over to tighten the laces at her back.

“I’ve never had a dress I needed help to get into.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to her ear. “I am very interested in helping you back out of it later.”

She lightly smacked his shoulder. “Get dressed.”

Getting into his outfit was far less involved, so they were able to focus together on braiding and beading Juska's hair. She used only her silver ones, this time. That done, they were soon ready to go downstairs and reunite with Sven. As Fandelmar moved for the door, Juska caught him by the wrist. He turned to look down at her, and she rose onto her toes, planting a soft kiss on his lips. When he smiled, she took him by the hand and led him out the door.

Sven's eyes widened slightly as he saw them come down the stairs. "Shit, Jus."

She grinned. "I know."

He took her by the arm. "Let's get you to the temple before someone else decides they want to be your husband."

The walk to the temple was short, and when they arrived, they found Ruvene and Neloth waiting. A Redguard in Maran robes was also there, and came forward to introduce himself as Maramal. 

“Are we ready to begin?”

“Y-yeah,” Juska said, then grinned up at Fandelmar.

“Please, step to the front.” Maramal indicated the space in front of his lectern, then looked to their guests. “Please, have a seat.”

Everyone took their positions, including the priest. After raising his hands skyward, he began to speak.

“It was Mara that first gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone is no life at all. We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship.”

Maramal paused and looked to them both. “It is my understanding that the two of you wrote vows for today. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Fandelmar replied.

“Then you may begin.”

He smiled at Juska and inclined his head slightly, indicating that she should start. She took a deep, shaky breath, and then began to speak.

“I will patch your wounds, and you will heal mine, because by now we are in practice.” Juska reached up and pressed her hand to his shirt, over the scar on his shoulder.

His smile widened, and he reached out to cup her face in his hand as he said his line. “I will save your bottom lip from your teeth, and you will rub the knots from my shoulders, because we always want to make each other more comfortable.”

“I will do my best to not be reckless,” Juska replied, “so that you never have to save me from another dragon, because I never want to hurt you again.”

Fandelmar heard Sven mutter, “Wait, _dragon_? What dragon?” 

They were going to hear about that later. Fandelmar stifled a poorly-timed laugh and focused on his reply to Juska.

“And I will do my best not to feel hopeless, so that you never have to draw me out of it, because I never want to hurt _you_ again.”

She reached out and took him by the hands. The last line, they spoke in unison: “And if anybody else tries to harm one of us, I know they will have to come through the other, because we look out for each other, and always have.”

The two of them looked to Maramal, who began to speak again. “Have you brought rings?”

Juska’s eyes went wide, but Fandelmar replied before she could succumb to panic. “They are waiting back at home. I was loathe to travel with valuables.”

The priest nodded. “Understandable. Then under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be wed.”

Juska wrapped her arms around Fandelmar’s neck and kissed him furiously before pulling back and whispering in his ear, “I forgot about rings.”

“I didn’t. You will see yours soon. I wanted that part to be private.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Sven was suddenly standing beside them. “Juska. _Dragon_?”

“Nope. Not today. Today is for good food and celebration.” She took her brother’s hand in one of hers, and Fandelmar’s in her other, and led them both over to Neloth and Ruvene. “Is everyone ready to eat? The innkeepers have promised us more food than we can handle.”

Fandelmar had experienced some reservations about the group dinner, since until recently Sven had been a staunch enemy of meri. However, he seemed to have taken Juska’s change of heart to his own, because he was polite and jovial, even after several meads. Their Dunmer companions chatted merrily with the three of them for a few hours before excusing themselves to catch the cart back to Windhelm. Talk turned back to the dragon incident after they had left, so Juska relented and filled her brother in. He buried his face in his hands, but said nothing, as the story unfolded.

“I need to go to bed,” he managed once she was done. “And pray for my headstrong little sister.”

“Which one?” Juska retorted, and laughed as her brother retreated to his room, muttering and shaking his head.

“Well, husband,” she said to Fandelmar once they were alone, “would you like to help your wife out of her fancy dress?”

He grinned. “Juska, I would love nothing more.” They rose, and he lifted her off her feet and into his arms, which left her shriek-laughing as they took the stairs.

****

 

Travel back to their home was uneventful, though they arrived dusty from the wagon and tired from several hours of doing nothing. Juska carefully unpacked her dress and put it away in the wardrobe as Fandelmar walked to his bedside table and opened the drawer. Inside, wrapped in a handkerchief, were two plain golden rings. He took them out and sat on the edge of the bed, inspecting the one he’d had sized for Juska. After a moment, she came in and sat beside him. 

“Are those our rings?”

He nodded and took her hand, slipping the band onto her finger. “I want you to know that if I could, I would be giving you my mother’s ring. Unfortunately, it was with my things on Auridon.”

She smiled at him. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“Would you… when we can afford it, I would like to get one made in its likeness for you. My mother would have liked you very much, and you deserve to have her ring.”

“I’d love that. But we’re getting you a bathtub first, okay?”

He smiled at her. “We have time.”

“We do,” she agreed, taking the other ring out of the cloth and putting it on his finger. 

They held their hands up, palms together, and inspected their new rings. Juska’s hands seemed small in comparison to his, which made him smile as he threaded his fingers through hers.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Real life resumes in the morning.”

For the first time in a while, Fandelmar didn’t find the thought of ‘real life’ the slightest bit intimidating.


	38. Juska

* * *

Juska didn’t want to say that they settled into a ‘routine’ after the wedding, because that implied that things became mundane. But after the absolute chaos that had surrounded their meeting and flight to Windhelm, she was pretty sure that neither of them would ever take stability for granted again. Fandelmar had probably already learned that lesson from losing his family, but it was one that she tried to take to heart now. There was something to be said for knowing what was coming tomorrow.

Eventually, they both even felt comfortable enough to stop leaving their packs by the door, ready to be grabbed at a moment's notice as they fled. Unpacking hers had been a surreal experience. It was the most physical way to say that they were no longer being hunted.

Their newfound safety and stability was the reason she waited to bring up the topic of kids. She’d been thinking about them for a while; the second bedroom she had insisted on while looking for a home had been because she wanted to make sure there would be room for a nursery. She had vague memories of how nice it had been to have her own room before her little sisters were born, and had wanted to make sure that their potential children weren’t sleeping on the floor of the common area of some tiny apartment. But it hadn’t been time to tell Fandelmar why she wanted a second bedroom, so she had just sort of hand waved and said it would be a 'good idea.'

Initially she’d thought that after the wedding would be a good time to talk about having kids, but the two of them had just been so _relieved_ that nobody was trying to have them killed that she hadn't wanted to add uncertainty back into their world just yet. So, it was turning winter again before Juska felt that the time was right to bring it up. 

They were in bed together, wrapped under the blankets, when Fandelmar kissed her temple.

“You seem pensive.”

She shifted so that she was facing him. “I want kids.”

“Ah.” He kissed her forehead next.

She grinned, mostly to ignore her nerves. “Admit it. We would have _beautiful_ babies.”

“We would. Tall, blonde.” His hand ran over her shoulder. “Good skin. Pretty eyes.”

“Do you not want them?” She started chewing on her bottom lip, then stopped when she saw his thumb making its way to free it.

“No, it’s not that. I have simply… put a great deal of thought into the difficulties a child of ours might face.”

Juska nodded. “Yeah. We need to have a few serious conversations.”

“Would you like to have one of those now?” When Juska nodded again, he continued speaking. “My main reservation is having a half-mer child grow up in Windhelm. This city has not been kind to me for who I am, or to you because of who you chose to be with.”

“Yeah. I agree. I think we should move somewhere friendlier, and maybe a little warmer for you, once I’ve learned enough from Ruvene to start my own shop.”

“Do you have an idea of how long that might take?”

She nodded. “Another couple of years. Ruvene has already said that if I do leave, I am welcome to write with any questions. That makes me feel a little better about moving off somewhere.”

“There is much to be said for continued mentorship.” Fandelmar sighed through his nose. “And moving would make me feel much better about having a child.”

“Then we’ll start planning for an eventual move. But I think we’d be okay here with an infant for a little while.”

Fandelmar considered this. “I am concerned about what people might say to you, Juska.”

Juska shrugged her free shoulder and thought about the letter she had gotten from Gran a month after the wedding. She hadn’t told Fandelmar about it. “I’ve heard most of it by now.”

“I just want to make sure you know that people can get strange about mixed-race children.”

She nodded, but laughed a little. “Fandelmar, I used to _be_ one of those people.”

“Fair point.” He brushed her hair over her shoulder.

“A kid of ours will live longer than me, right? Lifespan-wise, I mean.”

Fandelmar nodded.

“Then I want you to promise me something. If something happens to me, and it looks like things are getting worse for elves in Skyrim, leave and take them somewhere safe.”

His thumb ran against her cheek. “Alright. Am I also allowed to ask for a promise?”

“Yeah.”

“If nothing has happened to you, but things go south for meri here, then we all leave.”

“Of course. I go where you go, and we both want what is best for our family.”

Fandelmar smiled for the first time since the topic had come up. “Then I believe we are on the right track.”

Juska’s heart began to pound, but she ignored it. “Just in case it hasn’t occurred to you, I want to point out that triplets might run in my family. So would you be okay with more than one child?”

“If we could provide for them, yes. I come from a small family, and so would prefer a small one, but sometimes life has other ideas.”

“Three would about be my limit, honestly. Ma got a lot more touchy after the girls were born, and… I don’t want to do that.”

“I understand.”

Fandelmar pulled her to him, and she nestled against his chest and enjoyed his closeness for a few minutes. 

“So you won’t mind if I stop keeping a baby from happening?” she asked.

“No. I would not mind. I might even enjoy making what we would need for their room.”

“We’ll have to move the tub.”

He nodded. “There is space by the fire. It will make it easier to fill that way.”

Juska smiled, then felt her eyes go wide. “Shit. I just realized I’ll have to pick spinning and knitting back up for when they’re small.”

“If you can manage the knitting, I can probably still spin. It has been a century or so since I last did, but my mother was an excellent teacher.”

Juska’s brow furrowed. “I’ve been meaning to ask… since our wedding, actually. Why do you know so much about cloth?”

“Most of my family were textile merchants. Spinning wool was a way for a small boy to still contribute to the family business that was a bit less boring than wrapping and delivering parcels. When I grew older, I focused more on distribution than creation, but I still have some basic knowledge.”

“Then we might just muddle through this next bit, too.” She smiled and offered him a kiss, which he took gladly.

“Don’t feel bad about asking questions about my life, Juska. I may not… speak of it often, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to know.”

“I’ll remember that.” She smiled at him, and he kissed her forehead, then rose from their blankets.

“I want to get a list of supplies started. Any furniture requests?”

Juska sat up and tidied her shirt as he pulled parchment, ink, and quill from his bedside table. “Can you carve? Like for toys?”

He shook his head. “We shall have to purchase toys.”

“I’ll see if Sven will make us some. He did when the girls were younger.” 

Since they seemed to be actually doing this, _right then_ , she sneaked a paper away from his stack and nabbed her own quill, which was in a sorrier state than Fandelmar’s. Still, it worked, and not only was the letter legible, but she got it sent out to Sven that night.

The courier returned a week later with _two_ letters, and when Juska recognized the handwriting on the thicker one as her mother’s, she groaned and opened it first, expecting the worst. To her surprise, it was full of advice. Her ma gave a list of early signs to look for that indicated pregnancy, and gave a rundown of what she’d personally experienced over her three pregnancies. There were suggestions for handling nausea, back pain, leg numbness, and other common problems. Six pages in, Juska felt herself tearing up, because she knew that this was her ma’s way of showing acceptance. By page ten, she felt a little overwhelmed.

When Fandelmar came home from work that evening, she held up the sheaf of papers she’d made her way through. “Ma wrote me a book on what to expect with pregnancy. She also made us an offer.”

“Oh?” Fandelmar settled down across from her at the table. 

“I think it’s more of a thing that might mutually benefit us. Apparently Emilie is giving them some trouble, and they think she might do better with us, as a helper while I’m pregnant, and a caretaker once the child is here. They’d send money to help with the expense,” she added.

Fandelmar furrowed his brow. “She wants to foist her problem child off on us?”

Juska shook her head. “No, that’s not— If you had spent more time with her you’d understand immediately. She’s just… really smart. Like, _really_ smart. She gets bored easily, especially if she’s not learning something new. And I love my parents, sweetie, but they ran out of things to teach her years ago.”

“Would your sister want to do this?”

“Apparently, she read through my letter when Ma was making dinner, and then suggested it herself.”

Fandelmar considered this for a moment, before looking over at Juska and smiling. “So what I am hearing is that we have a pregnancy guide, a helper who can be paid in books—”

“—And toys from Sven,” Juska cut in. “Who has also offered to travel over with Emilie and help make the furniture we need.”

“An assistant for furniture,” he continued, “someone who can probably spin, and someone else who can probably knit.”

Juska nodded. “Sounds about right.”

Fandelmar rose and walked over to give her a kiss. “Tell your family it is a great plan, and that we will let them know the instant this becomes more than just a happy idea.”

Juska nodded again, but was too choked to speak. She swallowed, and tried again. “Gods. I love them. I love them, and I love you.”

He ran a hand over her hair. “Then we will be happy.”

Juska did tear up then. She had her husband, and now her family. And plans were coming together for their child. 

What more was there to want from the world?

Fandelmar bent to give her a slow, suggestive kiss. “Want to give child creation another go?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I really think I do.”

He picked her up in his arms like she was some petite thing instead of a Nordess, like he had at the inn after their wedding, and walked toward the bedroom. This time, instead of laughing, she took a moment to thank Talos for all the good the two of them had been given.

Just before Fandelmar stole her attention away from her god, she took the time to pray that things were only going to improve for them. Which, they had better, because Talos’ _tits_ , if any couple deserved normalcy, it was them.

Now all she had to do was enjoy what was to come. The combination of Fandelmar's hands, his lips, and her hope made everything seem bright, and she let herself sink into the feeling without fear of the future. 

Together they could manage _anything_ , after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who read this, everyone who commented, and everyone who left kudos. This is the first time I've shared any writing of mine publicly for nearly eight years, and I was genuinely surprised by how well-received it was. 
> 
> I wrote this partially as practice, because my fics generally tend to be darker, and I had never attempted a slow burn story before. But mainly, I wrote this because Fandelmar and Juska were loudly clamoring to get out of my head and on to paper. Now they're out in the world for everyone to see, and I think that turned out to be a good thing.
> 
> I have two more Skyrim fics outlined for the future, that will feature canon characters and plot, rather than just being a sea of OCs. So I guess if you liked my writing style, are interested in Brynjolf, Farkas, really bad vampires, and excellent sneak thieves, keep an eye open to see what I post next. 
> 
> <3!


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